


Chrysalis

by Danarius



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Antiva (Dragon Age), Antiva City (Dragon Age), Antivan Crows, Antivans, Apostates (Dragon Age), Blood and Violence, Cheating, Coming of Age, Dairsmuid (Dragon Age), Drinking, F/F, F/M, Flirting, Heartbreak, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Torture, Love, M/M, Mages, Magic, Marriage, Multi, Non-Consensual, Oral Sex, Orgy, Pirates, Qunari, Rivain (Dragon Age), Rivaini People, Romance, Sex, Slow Burn, Sparring, Thedas (Dragon Age), Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Violence, Zevran Arainai Flirts, this took me 7 bloody years to finish ;-;
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-04-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 29
Words: 93,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23909731
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danarius/pseuds/Danarius
Summary: Much has been written about Captain Isabela, pirate Queen of the Eastern Seas. But little is known of her life before she took to the debaucherous life of thievery and deceit. This is the story of the time before Isabela. A time where a young woman called Naishe was trying to make sense of her place in the world.
Relationships: Isabela/Other(s), Zevran Arainai/Isabela
Comments: 12
Kudos: 7





	1. No Rest for the Wicked

Creak. Creak. Creak.

The groan of the bed springs was far more enthusiastic than any noise coming from Hari’s mouth. An expression of faint boredom and irritation adorned her face on this muggy evening. The man, it took her a few seconds to remember he was named Mujaad, had her on all fours, facing the wall. He hadn’t seemed all too interested in her face and frankly, she didn’t care much for his either. Hari didn’t think herself a great beauty and Mujaad’s more handsome features, the strong jaw, the crook of his nose, the sparkle in his eyes, had faded. More than anything, Hari was overly conscious of how extraordinarily hairy this man was. His head was covered in loosely deadlocked hair that fell down his back. His back too had a dark shadow of hairs. Mujaad sported heavy stubble and a poorly mended cleft lip. He’d claimed it to be the result of a brawl, whilst openly goggling at her breasts. He was shorter than most of his fellows. Due to her height, Hari had grown used to looking down at people, and this man was no different. He has an easy smile and an inviting face. Judging by the lack of tattoos, jewellery, piercings, or any other embellishments, Hari guessed he was no one special. Special enough to get her in bed, apparently.

A loud grunt brought Hari back to the present. His hands, cold and sweaty, were gripped firmly to her hips. His manhood was deep inside her, and then it wasn’t, and then it was again. It was dull. The soft slap of his flesh against hers had grown monotonous. If Hari made any noise at all, it was out of politeness. It was clear that Mujaad knew nothing about how to satisfy a woman. He had omitted foreplay and instead seized the somewhat indifferent opportunity to get his cock wet. Hari had really only spread her legs out of thanks. Mujaad had sent a few leering tavern patrons on their way with the promise of caved in skulls if they didn’t. Hari had initially been pleased, but Mujaad’s _own_ ogling had been almost as bad, so it was a short-lived victory. Fortunately for him, she had been several glasses of Antivan whiskey in, and decided his cheap attempts at charm would do for a night. They didn’t even kiss. Never had the fires of passion been so obstinately absent.

She felt his muscles tense and then relax as he released his seed. It leaked down her legs as an unwelcome reminder of what they’d just done. Hari pushed herself up from the bed, but Mujaad wasn’t done with her yet. 

“No. Wait.” His chest was heaving, his brow sweating. He turned her easily onto her back. The wafer-thin mattress groaned.

Hari cursed inwardly. How much more senseless pounding did she have to endure?

Mujaad’s flopping penis hung limp, useless.

Hari was about to suggest they call it a night when he ran a finger between her legs, sating her suspicion. Her breath caught in her throat as she felt his fingers rub the swell of her clitoris. Maybe he knew what he was doing after all.

His free hand rubbed her back, whilst the other circled and even pinched the warm flesh between her legs. 

Hari felt a familiar throb in the pit of her stomach. The sensations grew like a great beast spreading its wings. She didn’t immediately realise that she was gasping, _moaning_ from pleasure. 

One of his fingers was inside her now, thrusting in and out at a rapid pace. Gradually, he started to pull her closer to himself, flicking his finger in a come hither motion. 

Hari bit into the cloth of the pillow at the head of the bed, ignoring the futility of her attempt not to cry out. Perhaps it was simply surprise that Mujaad was capable of giving another person any pleasure at all that made her so wet, perhaps it was just the whiskey. She wrapped her legs around him, relishing the feeling of his fingers inside her.

Their eyes met for a moment, and Mujaad flashed her a knowing smile. Still handsome after all.

Heat was flooding Hari’s body right to her core. She bit her bottom lip, but the satisfied moans still echoed around the room. 

When she squirmed, he held her tighter. Mujaad seemed to know exactly how and when her body was going to react. He’d rub his thumb gently over her clit until she was gasping profanities, and then ease off. She would groan in approval when he tugged on her hair, or raked his free hand across her skin. Watching her like this made him hard again.

The bliss was building until fire burned through every inch of Hari. The beast inside her roared in approval and white hot release exploded in her mind. She barely registered the fact that Mujaad had pulled her upright so their foreheads pressed together or how her arm now clung to his shoulders. 

His fingers were slick, from himself or Hari it was impossible to say. 

They stared at each other for a while, Hari panting, Mujaad smiling.

Eventually, she slumped down against the bed.

“Well,” Mujaad swung his legs off the bed and stretched his arms. “I think I need a bath. Do you think I need a bath?”

Hari didn’t answer. She wiped a sheen of sweat from her brow, unaware of what had already been set in motion.

*  
Had Hari met Mujaad just three weeks later, she might have been spared nine months of trouble. Upon visiting a fisherwoman-turned-brothel-keeper and acquaintance of Hari, she was given a vial of viscous brown liquid which looked about as appetising as wyvern shit. She was told in good confidence that it would prevent any unwanted surprises growing inside of her. The poultice wouldn’t make her barren, merely, act as a protective barrier against having any offspring of her own. By the time she realised she was pregnant, the two month time limit was gone. After that, the potion would have done little but damage the growing burden.

Hari did not put on weight for some time, and she put the nausea down to a flu that spread its way across the city. Only when she at last felt something kick, four months after meeting Mujaad, did the penny drop. She went to a healer who confirmed her fears. Over the next week, she schemed and fretted about the child, cursing the unwelcome invader growing inside her. 

Hari had never really considered the notion of bearing children. She’d already reached eight-and-thirty and yet remained single and child-less, a topic which served as tinder for the gossip of other women. The prospect of marriage had never particularly appealed to Hari, and thus had earned her the inaccurate reputation that she was a serial adulterer. It was unusual for Rivaini families to consist of just an only child; another reason why Hari was reluctant to extend her bloodline. The thought of lots of kids running around pestering her every minute was hardly her ideal life. She didn’t feel lonely. She enjoyed solitude, and none of her relationships ever seemed to last longer than a year or so. Nowadays it was hard to find anyone she really trusted. It made her morally questionable line of work easier. She didn’t have to worry about someone giving the game away.

Until now.

*  
_I never learned very much about Hari’s life before the pregnancy. Isabela was either unwilling to divulge or simply had nothing to tell. I got the impression that her mother had always been rather private, even to her own daughter. I know even less of the viddathari she became._

_But I digress. This isn’t about Madam Hari. This is about the girl who would grow up to become the self-proclaimed pirate Queen of the Eastern Seas. These are the records as told to me in a dingy old Orlesian tavern by the woman herself. I had suggested somewhere a little more upmarket for the Admiral to tell me her tale, but she insisted on The Maiden Head. I didn’t feel it necessary to ask why. Getting Isabela to agree to recount her story was no mean feat. Whilst the pirate captain was more than happy to entertain an audience with stories from the ocean about sinking ships, evading capture, being seduced by sirens and slaying sea monsters, Isabela was far more reluctant about describing her life before she joined that world. We all know of the infamous Isabela. Barely anyone living can claim to know about Naishe. I had to be persistent._

_I tracked her to the Free Marches, following rumours that she’d been spotted more than once with the King of Ferelden. I even spoke to the renowned author Varric Tethras about what had become of her (I tried to get a quote)._

_At last I can finally write down the story I’ve been waiting for so long to tell. I should also point out, under the advisement of Isabela herself, that some details may have been embellished for the enjoyment of the readers, that she is prone towards telling extravagant lies, and that she is devastatingly attractive only agreeing to this because she had nothing better to do. I always suspected she had ulterior motives, but who am I to challenge Isabela’s poker face._

_~~Hari’s life unwrapped with bitter irony. Word reached her of a shipment~~ _

_*_

_“Did I read that right? You’re writing about my arsing conception?”_

_I stopped writing and looked up at her. “What better way to start than at the beginning?”_

_She squinted at me for a moment as though I had tentacles sprouting out of my ears. “I don’t want to have to picture my mother having sex if it’s all the same to you.”_

_“Well, you don’t have to read it. Besides, people want to know about all the characters. It adds depth.”_

_“Well your main character says fuck depth.”_

_I set my quill down and flexed my fingers. “Alright. Maybe we should take a break.”_

_“Works for me. You’re buying.”_

_“I bought the last round.”_

_“You also just wrote a detailed account of how my mother got fingered to the Void and back so I’ll take a double whisky thanks.”_

_I sighed and made my way to the bar._

_Isabela shook her head, wondering if this whole thing had been a bad idea. Something occurred to her and a smirk spread across her face._

_Deciding that she’d earned a little artistic licence, the pirate pulled the book towards her and picked up the quill._

_When I returned with our drinks, a rough sketch was waiting for me scribbled over the first chapter._

_“Isa-!”_

_“Do you like it?” She took one of the cups from my hand and knocked it back._

_I stared down, horrified. “Is that…?”_

_“Double-ended? Absolutely.”_


	2. Labour

Dairsmuid was a flourishing city. As it was located on the west coast of the peninsula, humans, elves, dwarves and more came from all walks of life to Rivain’s capital. Merchants came to sell spices and silks in the market squares, or else to take large shipments of fish, tea and amethysts overseas. Runaway dwarves from Orzammar might be spotted in the local taverns lying low for reasons unknown. Grand dukes from Orlais would visit to see the famous grapevines that tangled around the edge of the city, through the orchards and fields and off into the distant mountains, far further than fruit harvesters were willing to travel. The harbour was always full to bursting point with fishing vessels or visitors from the neighbouring country of Antiva. 

Newcomers, particularly those from Ferelden who’d earned the reputation from the locals as having delicate dispositions, were often shocked to find hedge witches performing magic rituals in the streets. More than once, onlookers had watched as tourists ran screaming away from seers who’d summoned the spirits of their ancestors or else allowed their bodies to be taken over by demons of the Fade. The authenticity of the magic was spurious to say the least. Nonetheless, it proved convincing enough for some to brown their trousers.

Every few years, Templars or mages belonging to Circles across the sea came to try and restore (or even create) order among the magic folk of Rivain. Their failures were so consistent that the seers now took bets on how long before they gave up. Rivain’s Circle was highly criticised for being too slack by most of Andrastean Thedas. Mages belonging to it were often spotted visiting their families, drinking in the taverns and frequenting the pleasure houses. Nowadays, the Circle only existed to keep the loud mouthed magic haters across the sea happy. There was a distinct lack of concern surrounding the spirits of the Fade and their influence on those of more tangible form, in the capital at least. Or there had been, before the Qunari landed.

The Qunari had been in Rivain since the Steel Age, but had mostly been pushed back to Kont-aar. However, there was an abundant supply in Dairsmuid. Where they slept, no one knew. All they saw were the oxmen marching around with stern expressions, ignoring everyone and sometimes tailed by viddathari. As far as anyone knew, they were only around to add numbers to the Qun. 

As long as they kept to themselves, which was most days, the inhabitants of Dairsmuid tried not to bear them any thought. The attitudes towards the Qunari ranged from polite interest to outright revulsion. There had been incidents where locals would jeer, yell profanities and even throw rotting fruit at passing viddathari. Those wise enough to know better would merely shake their heads and walk away. It was not unheard of for a Tal Vashoth spotted slumped over in a tavern or else skulking in the streets to be congratulated, slapped on the back or even offered a drink.

Hari, like many, didn’t spare much thought for the Qunari. They didn’t go preaching their beliefs in the middle of town squares and chastising sinners, as was rumoured to happen in Ferelden with chantry town criers. 

Dairsmuid was such a bustling place that it was easy to ignore the sudden absences of newly recruited viddathari. Unfortunately for Hari, this meant the unwelcome departure of the city’s best healer; the one she’d been visiting frequently about the child growing inside her. Although there was no way of knowing for sure, said healer believed Hari’s child to be a boy. This came as some relief to Hari. Men had always been more manageable, at least in her experience. 

*

This was to be one of the last visits. The healer had estimated that he child would come inside a month. The journey to the cottage had been a slow one. Although Rivain was used to hot days, it made travelling all the more tiresome, particularly when carrying cargo.

Summerday had come and it meant that for once, the streets of Dairsmuid were mostly silent. Most had followed the vines to a hill in the north just outside the city for the ceremony. Well, ceremony is what the Fereldens called it. The chantry rituals were cast aside here, so it was now just a big party. Unlike much of the west, Rivain had already seen two months of blistering heat by the time summerday came around, so they were just celebrating for the sake of it. The attendees all wore white, but that’s where the similarities between Ferelden and Rivain ended. Instead of children flouncing about with ribbons, circus performers wowed the crowd with fire-breathing and magic tricks. Instead of a sermon, there was Hal the one-handed banjo player. Instead of prayer, there was drink.

Hari was a little bitter to be missing the celebrations. It was always a fun day to be thought of fondly long after it had ended. But today she had bigger priorities.

“Come oooooon!”

Her knuckles were starting to hurt now. After she had hammered on the door for a sixth time to no avail, she finally gave up hope. 

“She’s gone.”

Hari turned towards the voice. Before her towered a woman with short white hair, steely grey skin and stunted horns. Her right eye was bloody and her protruding muscles were as noticeable as Hari’s belly. She didn’t look like the sort you’d want to make an enemy of. 

The Qunari spoke again. “The healer left this morning. She has joined the viddathari.”

“She…” Hari turned back to look at the door on final time. As if on cue, the baby gave her a sharp kick. Hari placed a hand over her swollen belly. “Shit.”

She’d been relying on the healer, a strange young woman who liked to remain anonymous for reasons Hari could only guess. Hari knew enough her _self_ about pregnancy not to be too concerned about the torment it was putting her body through, but she didn’t particularly relish the thought of having to actually give birth on her own. 

“How did you know?”

“Many of the healers in this city have been recruited to the Qun. Healers are in short supply in Kont-aar.”

Hari groaned in frustration, then shot the Qunari a quizzical look. “Were you here to oversee her being dragged out with your lot, Qunari?”

“I am Tal Vashoth, not Qunari. No. I was not responsible for her recruitment. She was not dragged. She went of her own accord.” The Tal Vashoth’s blood dripped onto the stone ground, punctuating every word.

Hari snorted. It seemed terribly unlikely to her that all the healers of Dairsmuid would suddenly pack up and go. Then again, conscription wasn’t the Qunari’s style. She felt a sharp pain in her gut. Perhaps the baby was rebelling to match his mother’s outrage.

“You left the Qun?”

She nodded.

“Why?”

“I seek the freedom I had witnessed in the realms of men. They may go and do as they please. The Qun offers complete order. Something I do not desire, anymore.”

She didn’t seem inclined to elaborate. Still, Hari was curious.

“What were you? Before, I mean.” The child did not appreciate her inquisitiveness, and kicked her. She winced.

“I was Taarbas. I swept empty battlefields and disused camps for weapons that were rightfully ours.” She paused, “Theirs.”

“Balls.” Hari had been hoping she’d say she had been a doctor for the Qunari. The Rivaini grimaced. “And is that how you got…” she pointed at her own eye. “Running away?”

There was bite in Taarbas’ reply, “I did not run. I am no coward. I was given leave to go. The Qunari are not as barbaric as your people like to believe.” 

“We aren’t _all_ alike,” Hari protested.

“As are we the same. But it was not the Qunari who deigned to assign me the title ‘Oxman’. The injury came from one of yours. They did not believe I should be permitted to drink from the same stream as them.”

“Oh.” 

There was an awkward pause. Hari averted her eyes. She tried to soothe the kicking baby. “I’m sorry.”

“It was not you that cast the stone.” 

Taarbas looked at her blankly. Hari wasn’t sure how next to proceed. The pain was still growing to the point that she was seriously considering asking the muscled woman to carry her to the next doctor.

“So…You came here to get patched up I suppose?”

“You are giving birth.”

Hari smirked a little. “I’m _pregnant_ , yes.”

“You are giving birth.”

There was a wetness on her legs that Hari was suddenly acutely aware of. She looked down. Moisture had soaked through her breeches. Her eyes widened. “Shit!” 

Hari looked around, desperately hoping for a skilled healer to materialise out of the air. A sharp pain. She groaned. Why today? Why now? It was too early. Hari cursed again. She was suddenly resentful of the unborn child. Men always knew exactly how to inconvenience her. She’d turn Mujaad’s manhood to jelly if she could. Or better yet cut the damned thing off. Save any more women future troubles.

“Shit shit shit shit _shit_!” 

Taarbas watched her curse, double over in pain and curse again.

“I need to…” Hari panted, clutching her stomach, “find someone…quickly…ARGH!”

It was ridiculous. She’d taken more time to put socks on than the baby had taken deciding when to arrive. Fortune was against her that day, because the only person Hari could think of, through her sweat and abdominal agony, was a greasy old Ferelden, Gammel, who cut out the unborn babies of premature mothers for a small fee. But he was probably busy getting drunk with the rest of the city.

“Perhaps you would be more comfortable lying down. You will cripple your child. Some babies experience discomfort being birthed headfirst onto the ground.”

“I’ll give _you_ fucking discomfort…” she wheezed. 

Hari took the advice a little too literally, or perhaps her knees gave out, but she slumped onto the ground with a sharp cry. She could feel the back of her clothes soaked through. Hardly the warm bed she’d been hoping for. There were tears in her eyes, from the pain or the shock of sudden motherhood she was about to face, it was hard to say. 

Taarbas watched on, still silent.

Hari moaned, far more convincingly than she had during the conception of this wretched nuisance. She looked up at the other woman. What other choice did she have?

“Help me…please…”

For once, a spark of emotion flashed across the Tal Vashoth’s face. Pity.

“I do not have the necessary skills or experience required for delivering an infant.”

Taarbas’ words were met with another yelp of pain. “Please!”

If anyone had walked by at that moment, they would have witnessed a peculiar sight. A Qunari on her knees pulling a screaming Rivaini’s child slowly out of her.

Hari was hyperventilating, bracing herself on the ground.

“You’re supposed to push.”

Some ungodly profanity was on the tip of Hari’s tongue when another contraction came. All she could do was grit her teeth and do what Taarbas said.

“More.”

There was nothing else in the world now. Only this pain. Hari couldn’t even hear her own screams.

“More.”

“ **I’M FUCKING GIVING YOU MORE!** ”

Had it been an hour? Two hours? A day? She couldn’t tell. The pain was such that Hari had never endured before. She cried and begged for it to be over as Taarbas’ hands, slick with blood, gently pulled at the baby’s head. It felt like she was trying to push a watermelon through a keyhole. She grunted, willing the thing to be out. A puddle of blood had spread around them. Hari felt faint. She promised herself right then that she would never touch another man. Not after this torment. 

Blinding pain. 

A cry. It wasn’t her own. 

A sense of sudden relief. 

Blackness.

*

_“Wow. I don’t know what makes me hornier. My mother being hammered like a bent nail…or childbirth.”_

_I shrugged, “It’s not meant to be erotica.”_

_Isabela groaned. “Why not? That’s all anyone in their right mind wants to read!”_

_“We’ll get to it. I promise.”_

_“Soon?”_

_“We have to get through your childhood first.”_

_“OK. This is what happened.” Isabela stood, pulled her hat from her head and held it to her heart. Clearing her throat as though about to deliver a moving soliloquy, she said, “I was born, immediately aged thirty years and proceeded to have a non-stop fuck-fest until I was tragically killed…”_

_“Don’t say mid-”_

_“Mid-orgasm.” Isabela bowed with a flourish, waiting for applause._

_I shook my head as she returned to her seat and leaned her feet on the table. “This is why Varric was the writer.”_

_She smirked, lacing her fingers behind her head. “And all the steamy books are his bestsellers.”_

*  
When she awoke, the sky was dark grey. There was a dull throbbing in her loins that she couldn’t place. Something jabbed at her face. 

“Ow…” 

She blinked. The Tal Vashoth, Taarbas, was poking her. There was something lying in the crook of her arm.

“Ow! Stop that.”

She ceased her poking, satisfied that Hari was conscious again.

 _Shit_. Of course. The child. Hari sat up, wincing at the pain in her abdomen. She ached all over. Her eyes fell upon what was nestled in Taarbas’ arm.

“What is it?”

“It is a baby.”

“No…” Hari rubbed her eyes. “I mean…Boy or girl?”

The Tal Vashoth looked down at it. “I do not know.”

There was a sigh of frustration from the other woman. She reached out for the child. “I meant does it have something dangling between its legs or not.” 

Taarbas gave the baby to its mother. “The Qunari does not recognise gender by genitals but by how you serve the Qun.”

“I’m not Qunari,” Hari grumbled, cradling the new-born, “and neither are you.” She looked down at the child. 

_Her_ child. 

“It’s a girl.” She sounded neither delighted nor disappointed. 

“It’s very loud.”

Hari smiled a little. “Yes. She is.”

The baby whined, still covered in her mother’s blood. 

Hari wiped her daughter’s eyes with a finger. She felt oddly peaceful, despite how overwhelming the prospect of being a mother seemed. 

The little girl had soft brown skin. Big golden eyes. A faint shadow of dark hair on her head. But Hari’s attention was drawn to her hands. There were waving and grasping at the air, curious about the world. They wanted to touch. Explore.

Hari had a suspicion already that she would be a handful.

“Naishe. She’ll be Naishe.”

*

She was perhaps the only woman in Dairsmuid who had not spent her days fretting over when her first child would come. And then the next and the next and the one after that. Rivaini women bred like mabari in heat. It was not uncommon for families to have five or six children. The prospect of one was haunting enough for Hari. 

It felt like a slap in the face by irony when she got word of a shipment of necklaces destined for Amaranthine only weeks after her daughter was born. Fertility talismans. 

“They’ll make your wombs fruitful and will bring you many children,” she’d say to a wide-eyed audience of young women. 

They cooed and sighed giddily at the suggestion that the talismans might even bring luck in love. Hari had found her goldmine. 

It wasn’t her first amoral venture. Growing up in the poorer parts of Dairsmuid was partially responsible for Hari making a career of petty thievery. She knew how to con the glass eye out of a man’s face by the time she was twelve. Her parents were kind to her but died when she was still young. 

She reassured the sceptics that the talismans carried an ancient ward cast by elven mages during the Exalted Age. She highly doubted that any form of fertility magic existed, let alone a charm that would find one’s significant other. Nonetheless, the majority believed in Hari’s lies and bought necklaces for themselves and or their young daughters in the spirit of procreation, vanity and bragging rights. Hari grew used to excited hammering on her door from some newly pregnant woman who believed in the magic of the talisman and thanked Madam Hari, her adopted business name, profusely.

If anyone still maintained any doubt, Hari herself, a woman who had often voiced her disdain at the thought of baring children, soon gave birth to a daughter. A girl she named Naishe. Hari thought it funny that her daughter’s eyes were gold when her own were silver, because the second she was born her profits doubled.

Gossip spread like wildfire, and soon rumours were flying around that Hari had never lain with a man, that the baby was purely a result of her wearing one of her own fertility talismans. Such rumours amused Hari, given only weeks prior to selling the talismans, she’d held the reputation of ‘a common slut’. Because the chatter led to such a roaring trade, Hari did not attempt to quell the rumours. In a place like Dairsmuid, unusual events were not a rarity. The more miraculous, the more implausible, the more people wanted to believe it. Conflicting gossip grew taking the tale more and more out of proportion, until an Andrastean town crier announced that a virgin woman had been blessed by the Maker with a child. 

When she heard this, Hari chuckled. “They wouldn’t know a virgin if a Chantry nun smacked them in the face.”

Maybe she was being cynical. Maybe the talismans _did_ work. They made people happy at the very least.

When she had at last run out of fertility talismans, much to the chagrin of hopeful women, Hari had enough coin to move from her ramshackle one-room hut on the outskirts of Dairsmuid to a larger, furnished home in the midst of the capital. Here at least, she’d have space for herself, away from the child. She earned many disapproving looks for this decision, given the hoarding of coin was generally discouraged in the interest of community welfare.

Once she’d settled in the city, Hari found that her new child was helpful in other ways. Everywhere she went, women would coo with delight and swarm around to compliment her beautiful baby. It made her scams easier too. It was far easier to feel sympathy for the poor single mother, particularly when she told her listeners that she was homeless. Morality be damned. Hari didn’t see any problem with it if people were stupid enough to believe her. Opportunities insufficiently guarded. 

Baby Naishe was quite content to be carried along on Hari’s business exploits. She rarely became upset when they were out in the city, her mother marching around collecting coin. In fact, the only time she really cried was when they returned home. And once she started, nothing would stop her. Hari tried everything. Breastfeeding. A cuddly starfish. Songs. Silence. Nothing worked. Only when they left the house the next day would Naishe finally quieten down. Sleep, which Hari had always taken for granted, became a luxury. The bags under her eyes because a permanent and more prominent fixture.

She could tell this kid was going to be hard work.


	3. Protégé

It surprised Hari how much she enjoyed motherhood, once Naishe calmed down. She’d expected the constant noise and mess to be unbearable but she soon grew used to it. Many women in the city would come by, either to assist the new mother in cleaning and feeding the child or else just to leave gifts like blankets or fresh goat milk if she didn’t want to breastfeed. One of them, a mage, even enchanted a rattle so it would sparkle when Naishe shook it. Her eyes would widen and she would gurgle laughter. One of Hari’s friends, herself a mother of four, offered to read to Naishe when Hari was too exhausted. The idea was that Naishe would fall asleep during the story, but the infant’s eyes always remained alert until it was over. When she could speak, she asked for a story every night. 

Naishe quickly developed an aptitude for mischief. This didn’t entirely surprise Hari, since her own area of expertise could hardly be considered noble. She would walk in to their dining room to see the little girl climbing into a cupboard to reach a sweetroll she’d stashed away. A simple raised eyebrow would have Naishe staring at her mother innocently with those big golden eyes. It was difficult to stay mad at her for long. 

_“What did you do this time?”_

_“It was nothing I promise!”_

_Hari crossed her arms, “Why do I find that difficult to believe?”_

_Naishe tried to mimic her mother and put on her best serious face. “You aaaaaaalways say that.”_

_“I’m aaaaaalways right.” Hari knelt down and stroked Naishe’s hair out of her face. “I’ll be more upset if you don’t tell me. I’ll have to get the truth out of Darion again.”_

_Naishe frowned and considered her options. Not telling her would probably mean she wouldn’t be allowed to go and see the giant starfish that’d washed up on the nearest beach. She’d been pestering mother about it for a week. On the other hand if she did tell the truth, she might be forced to go and apologise like the last time. Naishe wasn’t sure which was worse._

_“I tied two Qunari together.”_

_Hari snorted, “You did_ what _?”_

_Naishe looked at her feet, “I tied them together. Their horns. Their backs were to the wall so I climbed over…But then there was a noise and they tried to run to it and…” She gave her mother her best cute little girl stare._

_Hari was trying not to laugh. The image in her mind was brilliant. Two bumbling giants crashing to the ground. It must have caused quite the scene. Just as well Qunari couldn’t blush._

_“Naishe, you really mustn’t.”_

_“You said you hated them!” the girl cried indignantly._

_“That’s not the point.” Hari crouched down in front of her and put her hands on her shoulders. “Naishe, lashing out at the people you hate only makes things worse. Particularly when they’re so much bigger than you.”_

_Naishe huffed, looking away. “They didn’t even know it was me.”_

_“But what if they had? What if they caught you? The Qunari don’t take anything lightly, you know that.”_

_“I know.”_

_“No, you don’t.” Hari cupped her daughter’s cheeks in her hands. “Naishe, you have to be more careful. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”_

_Naishe met her mother’s gaze sheepishly. “I will be…sorry.”_

_“Alright then.” Hari kissed Naishe’s forehead and stood. “Off you go. But no more trouble today.”_

_Naishe perked up immediately. “OK!” She spun on her heel and scampered towards the door._

_“Love you!”_

_“You too!”_

Hari realised pretty quickly that taking her daughter on her trips would keep her out of trouble, of one sort at least. Naishe had begged her mother to let her tag along on her trips. She didn’t know exactly what Hari did on them, but she always returned with coin, and occasionally a gift. 

It was only when Naishe attempted to follow Hari on horseback at the ripe old age of seven that she finally agreed to take her with her. That was only after the stallion bucked her off several times.

Sleight of hand came naturally to her, and tricking strangers even more so. By age eight, Naishe was always by her mother’s side. 

*

It took them five days to reach the village. Hari was always cautious and wouldn’t go anywhere too close to home lest an angry visitor come to door. Vanarachi could scarcely be called a village at all with less than fifty inhabitants. The houses were dotted precariously along the side of a mountain meaning Hari and Naishe had to climb some distance before they reached them. Few people knew about the village, but Hari was friendly with a woman who claimed to be the best cartographer in the East.

Rocky crags and tumbling boulders weren’t the only problems the mother and daughter encountered. Starved mountain wolves roamed wild, searching for their next meal. No beast was too big in their eyes. Hari ensured they steered clear of any howls. Beetles too. Rivain was cursed with ham-sized blue beetles that would nip at your toes with their pincers given the chance. When ground up with a pestle and mortar, the beetle’s powder was known to ease headaches and even deliver feelings of euphoria, but the act of pulverising the insects was a task considered too arduous to undertake by most Rivainis. Hari and Naishe alike wrinkled their noses when they caught sight of a beetle and would throw rocks to scare it off.

By the time they reached the village, Naishe was in a foul mood. She could feel blisters on her feet and stones in her shoes. She had a bruise on her shin blooming like a slow explosion from where she’d slipped on the rocks. Hari wasn’t fairing much better, but trudged resolutely to the first house.

House was a kind term. A wooden shack barely supporting its own roof stood waiting, as rundown as Hari and Naishe felt. The walls were dark with rot. Wood worms had nearly eaten the entire thing. It was a wonder that anyone could bear to live here. They must be desperate.

Hari knew this. She always chose the desperate.

A sign on a stick had been hammered into the ground by the house.

**DO NOT ENTER: VILLAGE UNDER QUARANTINE**

The paint was peeling. The sign had been made some time ago. This was the problem with these kinds of people. They were too far out to seek help. Too attached to their beliefs.

Vanarachi was probably a family name originally. There were a lot of villages like this. People devoted to the natural order of things. Refusing to leave their ancestral homes even if it meant stranding themselves in the crook of a mountain, as though that somehow deepened their connection with the universe. Naishe had found a book about religion in their home a few weeks before their trip, but at eight the subject didn’t particularly interest her.

At her mother’s nod, Naishe pulled the bandana around her neck over her face so her nose and mouth were covered. Hari did the same and knocked on the door of the house.

The disease had hit Dairsmuid the previous year. Hari had been worried her daughter wouldn’t make it. Vomiting and diarrhoea until there was nothing left. Unquenchable thirst and aching limbs. People were so weak they were collapsing in the streets. They thought maybe it was just a nasty infection going around until the first death. Then they were scared. Everyone shut themselves inside their houses. Those who could afford to fled the city in search of a cure. Some fled the country. For all the good it would do. The seers suspected that the spirits were angry. A conflict in the Fade perhaps. No one really knew for sure. A clever witch thought of the water. The problem with being a coastal city was that they had to take particular care filtering what they drank. Somewhere down the line it had all gone wrong and the Rivainis suffered.

Clean water was even more scarce up in the mountains. There were no rivers, so someone had to make the long trip down to the nearest town to fetch casks of water for the village and drag them back up again. Normally other towns would send help, but most didn’t know Vanarachi was even there.

“Fools…” Hari said under her breath as they waited for the door to open. “If they weren’t so bloody proud…”

Yes. If they weren’t so proud they wouldn’t be about to lose their coin. That was Hari’s logic. Only devotion was keeping them here. Word had not spread that Dairsmuid had been cured, even if the infection had.

There was a shuffle of approaching feet and the door creaked open a crack. A woman’s wrinkled face was just visible.

“Yes?” she croaked.

“Tohi-dulit.” Hari touched her fingers to the centre of her forehead, to her heart and finally waved.

The woman returned the greeting, or Naishe assumed she did. It was hard to see.  
“We have come with medicine.” Hari gestured to the satchels she and Naishe were carrying. Between them they had around fifty clinking phials.

“Medicine?” The woman said the word like it was foreign, and didn’t move the door an inch.

“Yes. I am Madam Hari. And this is my daughter, Khala.” She bowed her head.

Naishe did the same, hitching a smile onto her face. She always got an alias. Just in case an angry customer managed to trace them back to Dairsmuid. She’d only ever heard people call her mother Hari. Hari, like the plant, elfroot. 

Hari took out one of the phials and held it up. It was filled with a translucent silvery liquid.

“Distilled from cetomolia. Aquatic mushrooms that grow by the city. They have many healing properties.” In truth, the phials contained watered down elfroot. The substandard medicine might offer some comfort, but it wouldn’t cure more than a headache. Hari had considered bringing casks of water to the village, but no carriage would dare travel on terrain this steep.

The woman opened the door an inch so she could better squint at the phial.

Hari held it out for her. “I think this would help with the sickness.”

Naishe watched the woman with wide innocent eyes. It’s difficult to say no to two people, particularly when one of them is a cute little girl.

“What makes you think we want your medicine?”

As if on cue, more villagers’ heads appeared from their houses. Visitors were clearly a rare occurrence. Hari, Naishe and the old woman were soon joined by at least twenty others, all dragging their feet or coughing into their hands.

Hari persisted, “Forgive me serah, but I recognise the symptoms. Your village is teetering on the edge of disaster, and I worry for your children if you don’t act soon.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, a questionable feat since her wrinkled skin entirely obscured her vision. “What’s the catch?”

“No catch. Only thirty coppers a phial-”

“You’re _charging_ us?”

“Please serah,” Hari looked at her imploringly. “I need to support my daughter. I’m sure you can understand.”

Naishe tried to look as pitiful as possible.

_“Step one, get their sympathy.”_

“I thought the people from the capital were supposed to be rich…”

“Would we be here if we were?”

The woman’s face was impassive. “Brandt!”

A balding man from somewhere in the crowd shuffled forward to the door and slipped one hand around the woman’s waist to support her. Naishe assumed she must be the village elder. They moved slowly back to the other villagers.

Hari and Naishe stood by whilst the inhabitants of Vanarachi discussed their offer. Hari caught her daughter’s gaze and shot her a wink.

“…take all the help we can get…”

“…shove their charity up their…”

“…haemorrhaging yesterday…”

“…extortion…”

“…what choice do we have…”

“…believe her…”

“…blackmail…”

Naishe could see her mother quickly becoming more irritable as the minutes passed. She had never been a patient woman.

Hari stepped forward and cleared her throat loudly. Sometimes a firmer touch was required. “I don’t mean to scare you,” she did, “but all of you will most likely be dead within a fortnight. You’ll be too weak to look after your own children. You’ll be too weak to eat. No one else knows you are out here. I am at least giving you a fighting chance.”

The elder started to respond but Hari cut her off.

“I’m the only option you’ve got.” She was still smiling politely, but the smile no longer reached her eyes. 

Naishe could tell the villagers were shaken. It was a toss-up whether they contested her threats or rolled into submission.

The winkled face of the elder stared, Naishe assumed, up at them.

“I think…perhaps…” she croaked through chapped lips, “perhaps we will take this medicine…”

Naishe bit her tongue to refrain from smiling. She’d never seen her mother fail yet.

“You made the right choice.”

Before Hari could so much as reach a hand into her satchel, the human crutch Brandt piped up, “Thirty coppers is too much. We can’t afford city prices here…”

There were murmurs of agreement.

“Five maybe…”

“Can you really put a price on your own health?” Hari said earnestly, conveniently ignoring the fact that she was putting a price on their own health.

“Twenty-five,” said Naishe.

Her mother glanced at her again, then nodded. “As Khala says. Twenty-five.”

“Ten.”

“Twenty.”

“Fifteen.”

“Eighteen.”

“Fif-”

“Enough, Brandt.” The elder extended a gnarled hand to Hari. “Eighteen a-piece.”

Hari smiled and took her hand. “You won’t regret this.”

_“Step two, pretend to drop the price.”_

A grateful smile spread across the elder’s face. For the first time in a while, she had reason to be hopeful again.

_“Step three, profit.”_

*

“Cheap bastards.”

In the space of an hour, Hari and Naishe were already making the long journey down the mountain back home.

Hari was fishing through her coin pouch looking distinctly dissatisfied. “That’s the last time I’m going this far out…”

“They were never going to pay full price,” Naishe stumbled on a rock and fell to the ground. Her knee was bleeding when she pushed herself up.

“No shit.” Hari stowed the pouch away. “Still. Next time I’m asking for _forty_ at least.”

It was a lot easier descending the mountain. It would take half the time getting to Venarachi to return home.

“Are any of those people going to get better?” Naishe asked after half an hour of silence.

“Some if they’re very lucky. I wouldn’t hold out much hope for the old ones though. Two weeks tops.”

Naishe glanced at her.

“Oh don’t be like that. You don’t even _know_ them.”

“So they don’t matter?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You kind of did.”

“Naishe.”

The young girl rolled her eyes.

Hari sighed, then took her daughter’s hand and squeezed it. “Naishe. We’re doing what we can to survive. The whole world is.”

“Except those villagers.”

The two fell silent.

Naishe wasn’t sure why that particular village bothered her so much. Did she feel guilty for tricking them or stupid for not understanding her mother’s logic?

“Come on sweetheart,” Hari said in a softer tone. “Let’s rest here tonight."

When they had set up a tent and were sitting inside, Naishe said, “I wish I was a mage.”

Hari grinned. “Oh yes? What would you do if you were?”

“I don’t know…” Naishe shrugged, “Explode stuff. Turn myself into a dragon. I could fly everywhere and burn anyone who annoyed me.” She seemed to be warming to this idea. “Someone said the dragons were born in volcanoes. Is that true?”

“Who told you that?”

“One of my friends. It’s true isn’t it?”

Hari merely smirked, “I can’t say I know many dragons. If I meet one I’ll ask.”

“I bet it is true,” Naishe spoke more to herself. “That’s where they’re all hiding. No one would look there.”


	4. Waste

It was a blustery Umbralis evening and Hari had to turn her collar up against the wind. Rivain rarely suffered the cold, but a violent wind had risen up from Tevinter and spread its wings over the rest of Thedas. The pest from the west. Hari wouldn’t have bothered venturing outside but there was word of an iron deposit and it was too good an opportunity to miss. She wanted to get to it before the other vultures did. Iron was rare enough in Rivain that it would fetch a high price. She’d invited Naishe along but the girl had had other plans.

_“We’re going to the beach so Arzo can enchant the hermit crabs.”_

Why Naishe and her little mage friend wanted to terrorise the wildlife was beyond her. Hari supposed returning to a rampage of giant crabs wouldn’t be so bad as long as she had something to show for it.

Hari heard familiar clinking sounds as she approached the deposit. Her fears were confirmed when the mine came into view. The Qunari worked fast. She could see at least two dozen bodies at work, picking the precious iron off bit by bit. Horses were tied up nearby. Asaarash they called them.

“How the fuck…” Hari squinted around for ideas. She could hardly run up to the mine and pluck the iron out of the wall without a sound. Qunari ears were just as sharp as their eyes.

There was a cart by the horses stacked with ore.

“Bullseye.”

There was one guard stationed beside the cart, but that’d be easy to deal with. Keeping low, Hari could cover herself with the gravel piles around the mine. She flanked the left side of the iron cart until she was as close as she dared. There were plenty of rocks around and Hari was a good aim. She poked her head over the gravel mound to check the guard wasn’t looking her way, then launched a rock as far as she could. It smacked into the side of a horse, which snorted in outrage and cantered away in the opposite direction. The guard yelled and sprinted after it.

Hari grinned, “Candy from a baby.”

She snuck forward to the cart. The Qunari had been busy. There was enough iron in the cart to choke a dragon. She set her satchel down, pulled out a burlap sack and started heaving lumps of cold metal into it as quickly as possible.

Whether it was because of the wind or simply because she wasn’t paying enough attention, Hari didn’t notice footsteps behind her. 

There was a loud clearing of someone’s throat.

Shit.

“Lost?”

Hari cursed inwardly, then turned slowly around.

A giant of a Qunari towered over her. He was the largest creature on two legs Hari had ever seen. Seven feet of pure muscle. His skin was a burnt slate grey. He might as well have been carved from rock. Oil black horns curled around the back of his head and arrived either side of his jaw like a ram. They were capped with gold and Hari was certain she’d prick a finger if she so much as grazed one of them. The blood red mark of the Qunari was painted neatly on his chest and face but he wore a smirk uncharacteristic of the converted.

It was difficult to ignore the huge pickaxe in his fist. It dwarfed the one strapped to Hari’s belt. 

“I suppose you’re not going to believe me if I say I was just tying my shoelaces…?”  
The Qunari’s smirk persisted. He shook his head.

“Worth a shot.” Hari stood. “I’ll…put everything back.”

“Yes.” He swung the pickaxe onto his shoulder. 

Hari wasn’t sure if she should be more afraid of the axe or the horns. She started emptying the contents of the sack back into the cart.

“Why.”

Hari guessed he didn’t know much Rivaini. “It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come. I’m sorry.”

Qunari had little time for excuses. Less for apologies.

The giant opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted.

“Sten!”

He straightened up immediately.

“Fuck.” Hari heard the footsteps this time. The silhouette of another Qunari was approaching them. Just her luck. Maybe Naishe was her lucky charm after all.  
Without lanterns, it was difficult to make out the other person until they were close. Hari was amazed to see a familiar face. Taarbas. The only other person who’d been there at Naishe’s birth. She looked similar to how she had ten years ago, her horns were still stunted and her face showed only indifference. But her hair was longer, her body painted in red, and one new long scar slicing her face in half.

The male, Sten, merely said, “Thief.”

Taarbas regarded her for half a second, then said, “Fazha thrin, Sten.”

He nodded and stomped back to the mines.

Well, one was better than two.

Hari grimaced, “Fancy meeting you here…”

Taarbas’ face was impassive. “You were stealing from us.”

“It’s a simple misunderstanding.” Hari spoke as matter-of-factly as she could. “I was _returning_ what my daughter stole. She gets about you see. Your man there just found me giving back what was rightfully yours. No harm done.”

Taarbas was silent.

“You remember my daughter, don’t you? You were there. You-”

“I remember.”

“You do. Good.” Hari risked a smile. “Well, Taarbas wasn’t it? You know how children can be. Always running off and taking what isn’t theirs.”

“You expect me to believe a ten year old human child discovered the location of this mine and journeyed all the way here to steal a lump of metal?”

“…yes?”

Taarbas’ eyes bore into the Rivaini’s. “You must bring the child back here then. She will be punished.”

“No no that’s hardly-”

“She has a choice; either she may join the Qun…”

“That’s _never_ going to happen.”

“Or we will take her hands.”

“What?!” Hari gaped.

“We will take her hands.” Taarbas repeated. “That is the price she must pay for thievery.”

“Not in a million years.”

“But as you said, she stole from the Qun. She will be punished accordingly.”

Hari groaned, “ _I_ stole the damn iron.”

“Then you will be punished.”

“Over my dead body.”

“Parshaara!” she barked.

It made Hari jump.

Finally, Taarbas showed a flicker of emotion. Anger. 

“You trespass into our mine and steal what is rightfully ours. You will not defy the Qun a third time, bas.”

In an attempt to swing the conversation away from her amputation, Hari said, “The last time I saw you you didn’t seem too worried about the bloody Qun.”

There was a pause.

This was it. Hari had pushed her luck too far. Taarbas would simply rip her head off and be done with it. The Rivaini held her breath.

“The last time I saw you…I was lost.”

That wasn’t the reaction she’d expected. “Lost?”

“I was able to find my way back to the Qun.”

“When you could’ve been free.”

Taarbas stared down at her like she were a child. “Freedom is not so black and white. Anaan-”

“Anaan esaam Qun yeah yeah heard it a thousand times.”

“Do not speak words you do not understands, bas. There is a direction in the Qun. There is purpose. Not mindless mischief.”

“This wasn’t mindless mischief.” Was it too late to cut and run?

“What did you plan to do with the iron?”

Hari shrugged. There didn’t seem much point lying now. “Sell it I suppose. Fresh ore would fetch a high price in the markets.”

Taarbas said nothing.

“What? You think _you_ deserve it just because there are more of you?” Hari crossed her arms defiantly. She reminded herself of Naishe.

“After we mine the ore we will bring it back to Kont-aar. The ore will be refined and weapons, armour, cooking utensils and countless other equipment will be made. We waste nothing.”

Hari frowned, “What’s your point?”

“You would scatter your stolen goods to the highest bidder. There is no guarantee the iron would be used _correctly_.”

“Ahhh I see. So us mere mortals couldn’t possibly know what to do with such treasures in our primitive lives.”

“I have witnessed the pitiful excuse for weaponry that your kind consider craftsmanship.”

Hari scoffed, “Sorry we don’t live up to your-”

“Your apologies are wasted. Actions carry infinitely more weight.”

“You expect me make up for all humankind’s failures?”

“No. I expect you to make up for your own.”

“You’re not cutting off my bloody hands.” Hari scowled.

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Then what-” The penny dropped. “No. No way. I’d sooner join those Tevinter perverts than you lot.”

Taarbas sounded neither inviting nor forceful. She was just stating fact. “There is a place for everyone. Even you. As I said, we waste nothing.”

Hari snorted, “You can take your pitch to someone else. I’m not interested.”

“You think petty thievery will give your life meaning?”

“I don’t remember asking you if my life had any meaning.”

“Then you already know it does not. If it did, you would be with _her_.”

Hari glowered up at her and clenched her fists. She felt the anger rising up in her as palpable as the iron. She wished in that moment that she could set the whole place ablaze. The mines. The iron. The damned Qunari stood in front of her. She spat her next words like they were burning her tongue.

“And here I was wondering what happened to those horns of yours. Now it makes sense. They shoved them so far up your arse that you can taste them.”

Taarbas didn’t blink. “Your flippancy is indicative of your lack of purpose far more than your wit.”

“Fuck you, and your Qun.” Hari stepped away, slinging her satchel over her head. Enough was enough.

“You called me Taarbas before. I used to be. Now I am Vidathiss.”

Hari had already started stomping away, but called over her shoulder, “And I should care about that why?”

Vidathiss paused, “No one is nothing. No matter who they are. No matter what they’ve done.”

Hari rolled her eyes and continued on her way, now unafraid of anyone chasing after her. “Panahedan prick!”

It wasn’t the first time she’d heard the words that courted so many into viddatharihood. So why did she feel so rattled?

Vidathiss watched her go. She was not resentful of her leaving, but she suspected it would not be the last she saw of that particular Rivaini.

“Na’thek.”


	5. Catalyst

“Hold still! Shit!”

Naishe dropped the chicken and winced in pain. 

It let out a disgruntled cluck as it rolled onto its side.

“It bit me!”

“Technically they don’t have teeth.”

“Shut up, smart arse.”

A stocky boy about Naishe’s age grinned at her. His ebony skin contrasted beautifully with his violet eyes. He tied his hair in a ponytail that reached the small of his back. Darion. Naishe called him Birdie because of the winged tattoo across his shoulder blades.

“Finish that one.” Naishe jabbed her thumb at the chicken she’d just been holding.

The two had known each other since they’d learned to talk. Play mates from the beginning. He was one of six brothers. It made her jealous at times.

Darion plucked the chicken from the ground and proceeded to dip its feet in the green paint bucket they had pinched.

The chicken didn’t look very happy about this, but had resigned itself to this undignified fate.

Naishe stopped sucking the blood from her hand so she could fish out the labels in her pocket.

“You’ve got the picks yeah?”

“Yup.” She rattled her other pocket. “And you’ve got the _thing_?”

“Got it.” Darion set the chicken down and took the labels from Naishe. “This is gonna be good.”

She sniggered. They were about to cause quite the stir.

Darion looped the labels around the chickens’ green feet then stood back to admire their work. 

“Ta daaah!”

Three chickens sat before them, one slightly cross-eyed. They were labelled 1, 2 and 4.

“Alright Birdie. Moment of truth.” Naishe picked up two of them and started walking.

Their clucking died down quickly. They didn’t seem that bothered by the proceedings.

Darion slung a rucksack onto his back, picked the last bird up and followed Naishe.

*

Dairsmuid sat on the coast of Rivain, meaning most of the buildings were on level ground. The jail was in a disused wine distillery. The original owner had moved further east because he claimed the salt in the air ruined the taste of the brandy. Barrels had been traded in for cages for the few convicts that were actually sent there. Most offenders were assigned duties to work as their punishment in order to serve the community better. The only ones who ended up in prison were the ones whose crimes were deemed too damning.

“Terrorism. Honestly…It’s a bit dramatic isn’t it?”

They had taken a route through a few back alleys to save time. The jail was only ten minutes away on foot.

Darion shrugged, “She blew up a library.”

“She sneezed!” Naishe sighed. 

“Try telling the judicial council that.”

One of the chickens squawked. Naishe tried hushing the bird by stroking its head with the back of her finger.

“I thought you said you were naturally gifted with animals,” Darion said smugly.

“Bite me.”

“Chicken beat me too it.”

Naishe rolled her eyes, but smiled.

“Seriously though. You better keep ‘em quiet when we get to the entrance or they’ll give the game away.”

“Don’t you worry. Every bird here is going to keep their mouth shut if they know what’s good for them.” She shot him a glance.

Darion sniggered, “Hey, with a tone like that maybe you should apply to be the new city guard.”

Naishe snorted. “Why start low? Rivain could use a queen.”

“I always thought modesty was your greatest asset.”

“Tell that to Guzman. He can’t seem to keep his eyes off my assets.”

“It’s _totally_ unacceptable. I mean why focus on those when you’ve got such an unfortunate personality.”

“Idiot.”

“I try.” Darion batted his lashes.

They passed a lot of people in the street. Most didn’t give them a second thought.

“Hey! Love of my life! How’s about you bring your chocolate goodness over here!”

Darion sniggered. “I think he likes you.”

Naishe rolled her eyes, “Why do all the Fereldens act like they’ve never seen dark skin before. I swear the next time I hear ‘chocolate goodness’ or ‘burnt coffee delight’ I’ll punch something.”

Darion smirked and they walked on.

“Where did you say the window was?”

He craned his neck and looked around, “Definitely around here…”

Naishe eyed him doubtfully. “You _did_ scout out the place first, right?”

“‘Course I did. Something’s not right…” He had stopped walking, his brow knitted together in thought. “That ledge wasn’t there before.”

“Faaaantastic.” Naishe said flatly.

The chicken in Darion’s hand squawked, prompting him to look to the left. “Ohhhhh. Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s the wrong side. I came round from the market square last time.” He scratched his head sheepishly. “The door’s on the other side.”

Naishe groaned. “One job, Birdie.”

“I’m sorry! I’ve never staked place a place before.”

She sighed and shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. There must be a window or something along here. They only guard the main entrance.”

They both started skirting the wall once more. They were getting closer to the entrance and were able to hear the muttered conversation between the guards. 

“Naishe…” Darion lowered his voice. “We better turn back. There’s nothing-”

“There!” Naishe nodded to a glint of glass. It brought them metres away from the entrance guards around the corner.

“I don’t know about this…” whispered Darion.

“Relax. I’ve got this.” Naishe slowly lowered the chickens in her hands to the ground. “Keep an eye on them.”

Darion was about to protest but she held a finger up to his lips and gave him a wink. He fell silent.

Naishe crept over to the window. It was dusty, but she was able to peer through it. 

Darion was stroking the heads of the chickens to keep them quiet. His forehead was covered in a sheen of sweat.

“No one inside.”

There was a crude padlock on the window latch. Naishe smirked.

“Who needs Naishe’s magic touch?” She plucked two metal tongs from a pouch on her belt.

Darion nervously watched her feed the picks into the lock and wiggle them around. He’d seen her do it before, but was acutely aware of the sound of laughter coming from around the corner.

“Chicken!”

Naishe and Darion both froze.

“Come on! Don’t be boring. I bet you all the coin in your purse that you can’t beat me. No weapons, just fists.”

“I don’t need to beat your scrawny arse to know that I’m the better fighter.”

“You’re all talk Kalonji. You just don’t want to harm this pretty face.”

“Trust me, anything I did to your face would be an improvement.”

Darion sighed a breath of relief.

Naishe was already back at work. She twisted the picks some more until at last she heard a click. She pulled the window slowly open in case it creaked, then took a moment to bow.

“All in the wrist, children. All in the wrist.”

“Let’s go.”

They scooped up the chickens and dropped them through the window. One of them started clucking in annoyance at the foul fowl treatment, and Darion quickly pulled the window shut behind them.

They appeared to be in an old office. There were stacks of papers that had yellowed with age.

“Ta daa!” Naishe grinned at him. 

“That was _too_ close. What if they’d heard us? Or what if there’d been someone inside?” Darion wiped his brow and sighed.

“Shipping manifests.” Naishe leant over a piece of paper. “For exporting the brandy I suppose.”

“Naishe!”

She smirked back at Darion. “You worry too much. We’re in. We just need to find Arzo’s cell.” Naishe looked around the room they were in. 

Darion tiptoed over to the door. He pushed it open a crack to peek outside. “I’m pretty sure they keep the enchanted cells upstairs. We’ll have to be quick.”

Where there had once been rows of thick wooden barrels now stood stone walls. Darion could make out the bars of the first cell door.

“Alright,” Naishe crouched down to address the chickens. “It’s now or never guys. Game faces on.”

They blinked back at her.

“Good enough.” She straightened up and looked at Darion. “Remember, if we get separated, I’ll distract the guards and you find Arzo.”

“Got it.” Darion took a deep breath.

“And _don’t_ touch the thingy.”

“I knoooow.” He rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

The two of them ushered the chickens over to the door.

“Go go _go_!”

They shoved the birds unceremoniously out of the office. Darion had a firecracker ready and threw it at their feet. The bang made all three jump, squawk and sprint away in different directions.

One screeched down the first row of cells.

Two sped down another.

Four raced straight into a guard.

“What the-”

**SQUAWK**

Four turned tail in alarm and scuttled another way.

“Hey!” The guard started jogging after it.

“What was that?” Another guard poked his head from around a corner.

**SQUAWK**

“There’s a fucking chicken in here!”

“Y’wot?”

**SQUAWK**

Guards who had been pacing along their designated routes started following the sources of the noise. Within minutes, they had completely abandoned their duties to chase after a sudden inexplicable outbreak of birds rampaging around the jail.

Inmates started banging on their bars and cheering on the chickens. 

“My money’s on Two!”

“Anyone seen Three?”

As the commotion grew, so did the chickens’ agitation.

“I think now’s the best chance we’re gonna get,” Darion said when they heard two more guards thundering down the stairs to join the chase.

Naishe nodded, and they both sped out of the office.

Keeping low, they ran to the end of the corridor and looked for the stairs.

The jail was large and labyrinthine, and they could hear the voices of guards drawing nearer.

“Shit! Where are the stairs!?” Darion panicked.

They were completely out in the open like this.

“I don’t know! We’ll just have to guess!” Naishe grabbed Darion’s hand and pulled him around the left corner.

The sprinted down the next corridor, barely missing a guard who came out ahead of them running in the same direction after One.

“I _knew_ this was a bad idea!”

“Not the time Darion!”

They rounded yet another corner, panting and clueless.

“This is useless. How are we ever-”

“It’s the next right.” A calm voice emanated from the nearest cell door.

A slender elf in dull grey tunic was watching them through the bars with interest.  
“The stairs. Next right.”

“Oh.” Naishe nodded, catching her breath. “Thanks.”

“Pleasure. Don’t hesitate to drop by again.” He waved, before turning away and returning to his bed.

Naishe and Darion took the next right and sure enough, there were the stairs. They climbed them three at a time and arrived at the first floor. It seemed more or less the same as downstairs, only quieter.

“You realise you probably just thanked a murderer right?” Darion said.

“Well, that murderer saved us running around like a pair of headless-”

“Don’t say it.”

Naishe sniggered, then pointed down the first row of cells. “Arzooooo!”

Darion cupped his hands to his mouth, “ARZO!”

As they walked down the row, they noticed that all the cells seemed to be empty.

“Maybe no one’s moved in to the penthouse yet…” Darion said.

“They wouldn’t have guards up here if there was nothing to guard.” 

“Point taken.” Darion whistled. “Arzo!”

“Darion?”

The voice came from the end of the row.

“That sounded like her!”

They jogged to the final cell. It looked like all the others; thick iron bars, slate grey walls and a single wooden bench. But it was also encircled in a glowing blue light.

Inside, sat a young woman in a dirty grey shift. She stared up at them through the blue haze in disbelief.

“Howthefuckdidyougetinhere!?”

“Nice to see you too,” Darion smiled, relieved. 

Arzo got to her feet, still wide-eyed. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your arse of course.” Naishe grinned and put her hand on one of the bars.

There was a sharp crack that made Naishe’s ears pop. A volt of electricity shot through her skin and she yanked her hand away in pain.

“Ow!”

Darion’s hands flew out to catch her as though she were about to faint. “You OK?”

“Yeah yeah…” She frowned at the cell door.

“I should’ve said,” Arzo watched sheepishly. “The door’s enchanted. I can’t cast anything inside and…I guess no one can touch it either.” The Rivaini looked from Darion to Naishe and back. “Really guys. I’m grateful for the visit, but there’s nothing you can do. You should get away before someone catches you and you end up in here too.”

“Oh ye of little faith…” Naishe rubbed her hand. “We’ve got a plan.”

Darion swung the rucksack off his back. “And a secret weapon.”

The mage watched him doubtfully. “Seriously, even if you managed to pack a druffalo into there…”

“Relax.” Naishe shot a look back down the row of cells to check for guards. All clear. “Remember not to touch it. The guy said-”

“I _know_ , mum. I’m not an idiot.”

“Uh huh.”

Darion bunched his sleeves around his hands so his fingers were covered and reached into his rucksack. Out came a fist-sized piece of rock that was burning with red light. It almost sounded like it was buzzing, murmuring words too quiet for anyone to hear.

Naishe felt all the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She felt a sudden and unwavering desire to touch the rock. The faintest hint of envy crept into the back of her mind. Why should Darion be the one to hold it? She was just as capable. She was just as deserving. She-

“Is that _lyrium_!?”

“Shhhhhhh! Worry about that later.”

“But how did you get it? It’s incredibly rare.” Arzo stared at the rock with confused awe. “I didn’t even think it existed anymore.”

Naishe smiled and ruffled Darion’s hair. “Birdie knows a guy. Some black market dealer from Orzammar who got it from a Templar.”

“He seemed quite keen to get rid of it actually.” Darion lifted the rock towards the door slowly.

“Yeah because it’s dangerous and powerful and incredibly addictive!” Arzo raked a hand through her dreads.

“Sounds familiar,” Naishe winked at her.

The mage sighed and laced her hands on top of her head. “Just…be careful.”

“You people have no faith in me at all.” Darion held the rock a millimetre away from the door.

“With good reason.”

“Remember the time you fell in that well?”

“And when you dropped that sacred urn on the ground?”

“And the time you tripped into your brother on his wedding day and got wine all over him?”

“And ten minutes ago when you took us the wrong way?”

“Alright! Point made.” If Darion were a puppy, his ears would’ve drooped. “The man said this would dispel any nearby magic so we should be able to break the lock after that happens.”

There was an iron bar in Darion’s rucksack with a flattened end. Naishe took it out.

“Here goes nothing…” Darion took a deep breath and closed the space between the lyrium and the door.

The effect was instantaneous. The spot where the rock was touching had warped and the blue light started to ebb. A spot in the blue haze grew and grew until there was a window for Naishe.

“Oh you beauty!” Darion smiled at the lyrium like it was promising him all his hopes and dreams.

“Incredible…” Arzo gazed at it with awe.

Naishe poked the bar through the hole in the magic barrier so it was in a position to lever the door clean off its hinges.

“Keep it steady,” Arzo said, still mesmerised. “I don’t want to find out what happens when you mess with red lyrium.”

The bar was in as far as it could go, so Naishe threw all of her weight against it.

Nothing happened.

“Come on come on come on!” She strained against the bar. 

The cell door creaked in complaint.

“Let’s swap. I’m stronger than you.” Darion batted his eyelashes at Naishe innocently.

“Fiiiiine.” Naishe grumbled.

They traded places and within moments Darion was heaving the iron bar with all his might.

There was a scraping groan from the door hinges, then a violent shudder.

“Almost…” With a grunt, Darion slammed his body against the bar.

The room rang with a crash and a clang as Arzo’s cell door screeched off its hinges and clattered to the ground. The blue barrier had vanished.

“Shit! You did it!” Arzo beamed at both of them, stepping out of the cell slowly as though not quite convinced it was real. “You actually did it…”

“I-I did!” Darion dropped the bar to the ground and clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Nice job Birdie,” Naishe said, tucking the lyrium back into the rucksack.

Arzo took another tentative step towards them, then leapt into their arms.

The trio hugged each other tightly, ecstatic at their jailbreaking success.

“No more prison food,” Naishe said into Arzo’s shoulder, squeezing harder.

“Mmmfph!”

“Darion, you’re crushing her.”

“Sorry!” He loosened his grip so Arzo’s face was free.

“I said I can’t believe this.” She let go of both of them for a moment. “I mean, you guys came all this way. Broke into prison for me. They were saying I wouldn’t see the light of day for years…” Her face was flushed with excitement.

“Well let’s get you out of the building first,” Darion said, collecting his clobber together so they could leave.

“Yeah,” Naishe agreed. “Those guards must’ve figured out there’s no chicken number three by now. We better hurry.”

Arzo was barely listening, infected by her own excitement.

“First thing I’m gonna do is buy a pastry from Amma’s Bakery. I’m so hungry I could finish one like that.” Arzo snapped her fingers.

The last thing Naishe saw were Darion and Arzo’s smiling faces. Then a flash of white light so blinding that she felt her eyeballs burning with pain. There was an ear-shattering bang that rocked her to her core. It was so loud that Naishe could feel the vibrations in her bones.

Her body was flung like a ragdoll through the air before she was even aware of what was happening. She suddenly felt so tired she thought she could sleep forever. She’d give _anything_ for a few moments’ rest.

A large brown object zoomed at her. Naishe tried to reach for it but her arms felt like they were made of lead. She couldn’t move them at all, only watch as the brown thing flew at her. She willed it to come closer so she might decipher was it was, and it dutifully obeyed. When finally they touched…

Blackness.

*

“Naishe! Naishe!”

“Get her up quick!”

“Naishe! The guards will be here any minute!”

“Ughhh…”

A twelve tonne weight pressed against Naishe’s head so her cheek was to the ground. Something yanked at her arm. She wished it wouldn’t. Her body ached all over like she had just been pummelled by a berserker.

“Mmmph…”

Oh how she longed to sleep. Nothing else seemed important.

“I think she’s unconscious. Help me carry her.”

Why was her bedroom so loud? Why so many voices?

Wait…

The prison. Darion. Arzo.

Well, shit.

“Eugh…” Naishe said eloquently, blinking dust out of her eyes.

“Naishe!” A blurry Arzo zoomed at her.

The weight on Naishe’s head shifted a little, allowing her to slowly sit up.

A jarring stab of pain shot through her chest like a spear.

“Argh!” She clutched her body and winced. “Fuck!”

“Sounds like our Naishe.” Darion’s concerned voice came from behind her.   
“Probably broken a rib.” He patted her shoulder. “We should get away from here. People are already coming to see.”

“To see…what?” Naishe let Arzo help her onto her feet.

“That.”

Naishe turned to face Darion and see what he meant.

“Oh.”

The prison was no more. Rubble and smoke were all that remained of the stone building. Something had ripped through its walls, all the way to its foundations. Naishe could make out the figures of people running away and towards the wreckage. Many were shouting.

“What did we do..?” Her voice quivered a little as she spoke.

“I’m not sure…” Darion swallowed, taking Naishe’s hand. “But we need to go. Find a healer.”

Naishe saw that he had a deep graze on his cheek that oozed blood.

Arzo was curiously unharmed, but looked like she was about to vomit.

“Let’s go.”

It took them almost an hour to get to an apothecary. The pain in Naishe’s chest got so bad that they had to keep taking breaks.

A few swigs from a health poultice made the pains start to diminish.

Darion and Arzo had agreed that they should drop Naishe off at home to make sure she was safe.

“Hope you mother isn’t too…”

“Evil? Disapproving? Petty?”

“Any of those.”

Naishe smirked in spite of herself. Hari made no secret of the fact that she didn’t approve of Naishe’s friends. She didn’t approve of anything these days.

“Why the long face Arzo?” Darion said.

She was staring at her feet as they walked. When she looked up, Naishe saw tears in her eyes.

“Arzo!” Naishe reached out and brushed a tear from her cheek. “What is it? Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, swallowing. “It was me. I blew up the prison. It’s all my fault.” She tried to hold back a sob as she spoke, “I’m so sorry!”

Darion and Naishe glanced at each other and back to the mage.

“Well, I suppose it didn’t explode of its own accord…” Naishe muttered.

“It was an accident I swear!” She hiccupped back another sob. “It just…happens sometimes. I don’t know how or why but…”

Darion recovered from the shock of this new information quickly and squeezed her shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay. We’re all still in one piece.”

“We were always planning to get you out of there,” Naishe said, trying to get Arzo to smile. “So what if it was a little more dramatic than we planned?”

Arzo sniffled sadly. “They were right to lock me up. It’s what I deserve. I’m just going to keep hurting people.”

“Hey! I don’t want to hear none of that.” Darion fixed her with a hard gaze until she was forced to make eye contact. “You’re out. That’s what matters. And this way they won’t look for you.”

“Because they’ll think I’m dead.”

“Because they’ll think you _escaped_ , along with all the other inmates, guards and three chickens.” He wiped the fresh tears from her face and pulled her into a bear hug.

“Sorry about your chest, Naishe,” she said mournfully into Darion’s shoulder. “And your face, D.”

“Trust me, you’re doing Birdie a favour. Any change has _got_ to improve his looks.”

Darion flipped his middle finger at Naishe, but smiled when Arzo laughed.

*

They reached the path to Naishe’s house just as the sun was beginning to set.

“Get some rest,” Darion said, hugging her gently so as not to aggravate her injuries.

Arzo had managed to cheer up a bit. She cast a charm that sent sparkling butterflies flapping around Naishe’s head.

The trio watched the butterflies flutter into nothingness, then Naishe said her final goodbye and waved them off.

“So what did you mean by chickens?”

“Well…”

*

It was the evening, but only just. Naishe was hoping her mother had decided to have an early night.

She opened the front a crack and peaked inside. No sign of her. Naishe pushed the door open fully, wincing when it creaked, and tiptoed into the house.

Most Rivainis didn’t spare much thought for money beyond necessities, but Hari was and always had been an anomaly. Thievery was an unreliable source of income but when it paid, it paid.

As a result, the two lived in a two floor stone house that many considered far too big for them. The windows were stained slightly red so the interior always had a warm atmosphere. Several large watercolours lined the walls, all but one depicting sprawling landscapes. The other, a great emerald green kraken that goggled at Naishe wherever in the room she stood, hung above their disused fireplace. It never got cold enough to light. 

Several comfy armchairs sat in the lounge area. They were joined by a tall bookcase with everything from adventure books to thick tomes of Thedas’ history. Naishe had skimmed a few of the latter, but knew all of the former by heart, having read each of them multiple times. 

On the opposite wall stood something much closer to Hari’s heart. Shelves upon shelves of wine bottles. Naishe had started sneaking bottles out of the house when she was fifteen. Each time she did, her friends would tease her about living in such extravagance. Naishe found it difficult to argue. As nice as her home was, there was a hollowness that she didn’t feel when she visited the families of friends. Their homes were always full. Always noisy. Whilst she relished the independent life she and her mother lived, it was difficult not to be jealous.

The lounge was empty. Naishe kicked her sandals onto the rug and padded towards her bedroom. The young Rivaini figured she’d be safe from Hari’s ire if she could just get in the room.

She had just crossed the threshold of her bedroom door when she heard the fateful sound of a throat clearing.

“Where have you been?”

Naishe turned to see her mother’s frowning face in the doorway of her own bedroom.

“Out.”

“Where?”

“You know…” Naishe racked her brain, trying to check if she’d said she’d be anywhere specific today. “Around…”

“Around?”

“I said I’d meet up with Darion. Him and his father are going away next week so-”

“Why are you standing like that?”

“Like what?” Naishe straightened her hunched back, but another shot of pain in her abdomen made her hiss air between her teeth.

Hari stepped forwards and looked her daughter up and down. “You’re hurt.”

“No I’m just-”

“And you’re filthy,” she said, as though it was somehow worse.

It was true. Dust and tiny bits of rubble stuck to Naishe’s hair and clothes. Grazes and bruises peppered her arms and legs.

How she handled the next few moments could entirely dictate the direction of the conversation. It could mean her mother kissing her on the forehead and telling her to sleep in the next morning. It could also mean her mother screaming until there were tears in her eyes and steam coming out of her ears.

“It’s not what you think…” Naishe raised her hands defensively.

The concern in Hari’s eyes was turning to anger. “Tell me right now.”

“I…fell.” Brilliant Naishe. What a stroke of genius.

“You fell?”

“Yeah…” Naishe’s head was still spinning from the day’s events. “Off a horse. Me and Darion went for a ride but I got bucked off.” She looked at Hari with pleading eyes.

Silence stretched between them for a moment.

Naishe felt sweat forming on her forehead.

“You know what I think?”

Uh oh.

“I think you _were_ with Darion today. I think you both went on a little trip to see that friend of yours. I think that it’s no coincidence that the building got blown up the same day you pay that exploding mage a visit.”

_Lucky guess?_

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t play dumb Naishe I’m not in the mood,” Hari said, glowering. “It’s been all over town. The prison _mysteriously_ collapsed. Apparently around the same time a break-in was happening…”

Well, denying it had failed.

Naishe sighed, “Mother, I can explain…”

“Dammit Naishe!” Hari threw her hands in the air. She must have been holding out some hope that she was mistaken after all. “What were you _thinking_!?”

“Mother-”

“Breaking into prison? This is low even for you.”

Naishe crossed her arms defiantly, “I was helping a friend. Not something _you_ would know anything about.”

“Don’t turn this around on me madam,” She pointed a stern finger at Naishe’s face. “I’ve done nothing but provide for you, and you repay me by breaking the law!”

“You break the law all the time!” Naishe’s voice rose an octave as she spoke.

“But I was _careful_! I didn’t do anything that would get me noticed.”

Naishe didn’t miss the past tense.

“You might as well have painted arrows leading straight to our house!”

Naishe rolled her eyes, “We didn’t blow the prison up on _purpose_. It was an accident! Arzo’s still learning to control her magic.”

Hari shook her head, “I told you not to be around that girl.”

“She’s my friend! I’m not just going to turn my back on her!”

“She could have killed you!” Hari gestured to Naishe’s dishevelled state. “That girl’s a walking disaster. No wonder she’s in prison.”

“Was.” Naishe said firmly.

Hari pinched the space between her eyes and muttered to herself, “How did I raise such a stupid girl?”

Naishe glared at her, “I guess I learn from the best.”

“Watch your mouth.”

“Or what?” Naishe huffed. She was exhausted and wanted bed. “I don’t see what the big deal is. No one died.”

Hari looked at her incredulously. “No one…What do you call _that_? A harmless slip?” She poked her daughter’s chest with a finger and earned a hiss of pain.

“Bitch.” Naishe tried to let that be the end of it and edged further into her bedroom, but Hari grabbed her forearm, still agitated.

“Naishe you’re eighteen! You should know better by now!” Her eyes were both angry and imploring.

“As if _you_ were such a model citizen when you were my age. I’ve heard all your stories.”

“Yes. I was stupid when I was a kid too.”

Naishe glared.

“And I’ve been stupid as an adult. But that’s changed Naishe. We _both_ have to be better than this.”

“Why?!”

Hari narrowed her eyes a little, “You know damned well why.”

“Let me guess. Because all your big grey buddies told you to?” Somehow she’d known it would come back to this. Every argument they had did these days.

“You’re not giving your life any meaning like this. You’re just wasting it.”

Naishe groaned in exasperation, “Listen to yourself! You even _talk_ like them now. It’s like they’ve brainwashed you.”

Hari brushed the comment away with a dismissive hand. She’d always been aware of Naishe’s disdain for the Qunari. It was evident from the nickname she’d given Kont-aar. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Bullshit. You were _never_ like this before you started going to those cult meetings.” Naishe felt a sting of heat in her eyes.

“It’s not a cult!” Hair slammed her hand against the wall at the last word. 

Naishe rolled her eyes and started counting off on her fingers. “They poach from the poor and the pathetic so they can keep growing their bloody army, they keep their mages tied up like wild animals and they’ll kill you if you so much as look at them wrong. I mean come _on_! They’re probably not allowed to take a shit without asking permission.”

Hari tried to interrupt but Naishe kept going.

“Everyone who joins them turns into an emotionless zombie, parroting back all those _fucking_ rules.” 

Naishe hoped the sight of her daughter so adamant would make Hari see reason. See how misguided she was. How lost she’d become. She wanted to see her mother the way she used to be, fun and forgiving.

For a moment, it looked like Hari might give her everything she wanted. Maybe they’d be able to laugh about the whole business. How ridiculous it was.

“With the right guidance, we could _both_ be happy,” Hari said calmly. All the anger seemed to have left her. “Naishe, I’m giving you the choice to come willingly. There’s so much for you to learn.”

Naishe’s heart sank. “I wouldn’t join them in a million years,” she said icily. She turned her back on Hari and moved towards her bedroom once again.

“You’re just a silly little girl. You don’t know what you want.”

Naishe regarded her for one last moment. “I want my mother back.”

The door slammed, leaving Hari alone in the dark.


	6. Three Goats and a Sheaf of Wheat

Naishe and Hari talked less and less after that day. After Naishe’s ribs healed and she didn’t have to stay home, she stopped paying attention to her mother altogether. She’d have dinner with her friends and pretend to be part of their families. They all had ideas about why Naishe was always around but knew better than to ask. Darion tried once, and just got a steely glare in response.

Hari stopped trying to justify her actions to her daughter, often making trips to talks led by Tamassrans to learn more about the Qun. At least, that’s what Naishe assumed. The young Rivaini tried to banish all thoughts of Hari from her mind, but it was like trying to fly.

*

It was yet another hot morning in Dairsmuid. Naishe had slept over at a friend’s house and needed to come home for fresh clothes.

The house was empty when she got there. She decided to take a bath before her mother came back. Hari had ‘acquired’ a fire rune which heated the water swifter than a flame.

Naishe settled into the hot water and closed her eyes. She remembered when Hari would sit by the tub and lather soap into her hair. The younger Rivaini would always pretend to hate it, but nothing else felt as relaxing.

She sunk below the surface. The warm water cradled her weightless body. No sound permeated through. She could forget everything, if only for a moment.

Naishe picked a simple white tunic to wear when she’d finished her bath. She wandered into the kitchen in search of a snack, and saw a piece of paper on the dining table. It was a note with three words scribbled on it in her mother’s handwriting.

_Harbour at noon._

She had a lot of nerve telling Naishe what to do, as though the latter would actually listen.

“Hmph.” Naishe rolled her eyes, not in the mood for another Qunari lecture.

Still, it was unusual for Hari to ask anything of her these days. She knew how stubborn her daughter could be, and she didn’t need to lure her outside when she could berate her life choices at home.

At least Naishe could just leave if she wanted.

“Better be worth it…”

*

The sun loomed unrelentingly overhead. Naishe’s hair was almost dry by the time she reached the harbour.

Everything here was made of wood. The ships, the decking, the houses. Arzo had once joked that Rivain would be an easy target if the dragons came back. There were sailors unloading cargo and tourists gazing around wide-eyed.

A gorgeous scarlet galleon was moored nearby and Naishe couldn’t take her eyes off it. What she could see of the hull was painted black and gold. Blood red sails billowed in the wind and there was a purple flag flying with a crest she did not know. The golden bowsprit looked almost as long as the ship itself. The ostentatious design stuck out a mile. Naishe had watched a lot of vessels sail in and out of port. From fishing boats to frigates. This one might have been her favourite. She looked at the ship for some time before her mother caught her attention.

She was waiting at the foot of a walkway with her arms crossed and a sour look on her face. Naishe walked over to meet her.

“What do you want?”

Hari regarded her with a look Naishe couldn’t quite read. Was she sad or angry? “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

“When are you going to get it? I’m not going to any-”

“This isn’t about the Qun. I can’t change someone who refuses to see their own flaws.”

Naishe rolled her eyes, “If you’re just going to insult me then I’m not going to hang around.”

She made to leave, but Hari took her wrist.

“I do love you Naishe. I want you to remember that. This is for both of us.”

Naishe frowned, “I think the hypnotism is starting affect your brain.”

Hari didn’t seem to hear her daughter’s words. Her posture had changed. She straightened her back and started picking at the skin around her fingernails. She only fidgeted when she was nervous.

“What-”

Someone behind Naishe cleared their throat.

Naishe turned to see who had put her mother on edge.

A large man of unending opulence stood before them. His tanned leathery skin suggested that he was in his forties at least. He had rich dark hair tied back in a short ponytail. His moustaches and beard were ridiculous. They curled upwards with careful precision in the kind of flamboyant style that you usually saw on Orlesian men and sat against plump rouged cheeks. He had dark beady eyes which reminded Naishe of the seedy drunks who wolf-whistled at her outside the taverns.

Both his clothing and the vast expanse of his belly betrayed his wealth. A heavy navy blue longcoat hung snugly around his shoulders. He wore a matching blue waistcoat and white satin ruffled shirt underneath. The man must have been struggling in the sweltering heat, but he hid it well if he was. Few of his fingers were no accompanied by thick gold rings which sparkled in the sunlight.

A large silver pendant with something on it hung around his neck. A silver bull atop a purple shield.

But the jewellery wasn’t what impressed Naishe the most. Her eyes were drawn down to the beautifully crafted leather knee-length greaves the man was wearing. Antivan leather was known to be the finest in Thedas.

He stank of money. Even now Naishe could sense the pickpockets eyeing him up.

The man gave her a wide grin. His teeth were yellowed from rich food and wine, but the smile seemed genuine.

“My name is Luis. Lord Luis Mali-Kricco. It is a great pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last, Naishe.” As he spoke, he bowed and pressed his lips against her hand.

Confusion was spreading on Naishe’s face. “Uhhh….”

“And you must be Hari.” The man, Lord Mali-Kricco, reached out to take her hand and kiss it.

Hari obliged, but remained mute.

“I cannot tell you how excited I am to meet you both,” he said genially. “My steward found your letters, Madam Hari. I have read every one. You have my unending gratitude my dear.” As he spoke, he took another bow.

His Rivaini was perfect, but the accent was unmistakably Antivan. Many nobles crossed the bay to do business. But Naishe couldn’t think what interest this lord would have with her mother.

“She is even more beautiful than you described,” the Lord gushed, looking Naishe up and down fondly. “The spitting image of Asha herself.”

She didn’t miss it when his gaze lingered on her breasts.

“A true princess…”

 _What?_

Naishe felt like a bloody piece of meat lying in front of a lion. She swallowed.

It wasn’t difficult to see what Luis saw in Naishe. The cute girl had grown into a beautiful young woman. Her dark sienna skin curved out at the hips and chest. She had a smattering of feint freckles on her face which could only been seen if you got close. Ebony locks of hair swayed past her shoulders like raven’s wings. Her rich golden irises had never lost that mischievous glimmer, but had become cold and sullen today.

Naishe didn’t mind being looked at normally. She wasn’t oblivious to the stares and comments that came her way. The older she got, the more often admirers would approach her.

She had a hunch about why Luis was here now. Naishe’s eyes flicked to her mother, but she was looking at her feet.

“And no wonder! Anyone lucky enough to have a mother like you is guaranteed to turn out exquisite.”

Lord Mali-Kricco shot a charming grin at Hari, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze.

Naishe was starting to think she might be dreaming. Who _was_ this man? Who _talked_ the way he did? How did he know her name?

Hari’s discomfort, somewhat shared with her daughter, was so rare to see that Naishe was starting to form a hunch about why this man was here.

“What exactly is your business here?” she asked, eyes narrowing.

The Antivan looked a little surprised. His eyes flicked from Naishe to Hari and back again.

“I have come to offer you a new home Naishe. With me.”

Naishe’s eyebrows raised a little. “…Why?”

He smiled a little, as though he thought Naishe was joking. “You’re coming to live with me. Did your mother not tell you about the marriage?”

Naishe’s mouth went dry, her worst fears confirmed. Everything around her seemed to grow noisy. The waves crashed around them. Horns were blown to signal a ship setting off. Sailors yelled and warning bells sounded.

The young Rivaini could feel the sweat on the back of her neck and the drum of her heart in her ears.

Had she heard right? Surely this high and mighty lord of Antiva had somehow mistaken her for another girl. She was nobody. No nobility in her family. No grand fortune. No reason for someone like him to give her the time of day.

Lord Mali-Kricco’s lips were moving but the noise obscured everything.

A hand was on her shoulder now. Her mother’s.

“Is everything alright?” the Antivan looked a little puzzled that Naishe wasn’t leaping with joy at his proposition.

Naishe realised she was scowling.

“Naishe, this is for the best…”

“Get. Off. Me.” Naishe spat.

Hari sighed. “He’s offering you a new life.”

Naishe span around quickly, startling her mother. “You agreed to ship me off with a total _stranger_!

“Lord Mali-Kricco is a highly esteemed-”

“I don’t care if he’s the sodding Maker! You’re _actually_ trying to get rid of me!” Naishe clenched her fists to stop them from shaking with fury.

“Now now,” Lord Mali-Kricco interjected. “No one is getting rid of anyone. Your mother simply feels that you would be happier living with me. And I know I would certainly be happier with you in my life, Naishe.”

Naishe narrowed her eyes, looking from the Lord, Luis, to her mother and back.

“How much is he giving you? How much to sell me off like some common whore?”

“Now Naishe-” Luis tried to interrupt again but Naishe ignored him.

Hari looked far too calm. Did she even feel guilty anymore?

Naishe stared at her wide-eyed, barely able to believe this was happening.

“Don’t pretend this isn’t what you’ve always wanted,” she finally said. The sympathy that had flickered in Hari’s eyes when Luis had first appeared was gone. Her gaze was cold and flat. “You’ve made it abundantly clear that you have no interest in a life with me.”

“You treacherous bitch!” Naishe gaped at her mother. Was she seriously trying to turn this around on her? “This is what you do to your fucking daughter? I don’t want to join your damn cult so you ship me off first chance you get?”

The young Rivaini’s fists were clenched so tightly now that her fingernails were cutting into her skin.

“Ladies-”

“Fuck off!”

“Leave us!”

A flash of irritation appeared in Luis’ eye. He was clearly used to getting his way. But it was replaced almost immediately with another wide smile.

“As you wish.”

Hari gestured to the Lord as he hmphed and strode to the opposite end of the walkway. “This man is rich. He’ll give you everything you could ever want. Everything I can’t.”

“Don’t play the fucking guilt card,” Naishe snarled.

It scared her to think that what Hari said was true. She actually thought she was doing her a favour.

People around the docks were pretending to keep busy, but many were watching the showdown out of the corner of their eyes.

“How much?” she asked again. “Enough for a new home? How much does a Rivaini girl fetch these days? Or are you tossing away your own flesh and blood for nothing?”

Hari paused again, regarding her. “I would not accept coin for this.”

Naishe snorted. She wanted to laugh and cry and scream all at once.

“And here I was thinking I’d never see the day when you didn’t haggle over a price.”

Naishe saw remorse in her mother’s eyes. But not enough to make her change her mind.

She had to look away. The whole situation was starting to make her feel nauseous.

“I’m not staying either,” Hari said. She sounded distant.

Naishe said nothing. She was focussing on the ocean. The ebb and flow of the blue green water, reaching out to touch her and shrinking away at the last moment. Like an omniscient entity it watched them all. Never interfering but always present. Naishe wanted to dive straight in.

“They…they have told us of the settlement in the north. I am not going to be in Dairsmuid much longer.”

The young Rivaini shook her head. Of course she was talking about herself now.

She looked at her mother with a mixture of incredulity and frustration.

“They? Us? The Qunari you mean. You’re one of them aren’t you. You’re _actually_ one of them.”

Hari’s expression neither confirmed Naishe’s claim nor denied it.

Naishe surprised herself by bursting into laughter. A loud guttural noise that shook through her body and left tears in her eyes.

“This is just perfect. You joined a cult and sold your daughter because she wouldn’t play along. _There’s_ one to tell the grandkids…” she trailed off, her mirth turning to stone. “I suppose it just slipped your mind to ask me what I wanted.”

Naishe’s outburst had caught Hari unawares, but her neutral visage remained resolute. “This _is_ what you want.”

“What? To be sold to some creep and be his _wife_?”

“To be free from me. Here. You’ve always said you wanted to leave Rivain.”

“Not like this!” Naishe yelled exasperatedly.

The shout caused Luis’ head to whip back round to look at them.

“Not like someone’s pet.” The desperation had returned to her voice now. “There’s a difference between travelling and conscripting you know.”

Hari shook her head. “He’s rich. He lives in a mansion in Antiva City. This man can give you everything.”

“I don’t want everything!”

Hari actually rolled her eyes, which infuriated Naishe even more.

“This isn’t a matter for negotiation Naishe. The arrangements have been made. When you’re older, you’ll understand.”

The younger Rivaini stared at her wide-eyed. She was shocked. Angry. Devastated. Terrified. Everything rolled into one.

“Mother…” she said, one final time. “Please.”

A flicker of something passed across Hari’s face, but before she could respond, a man cleared his throat.

“Well then! I trust everything was sorted out, yes?”

Hari watched her daughter. Her eyes fell to the ground in something like defeat. “Just take her.”

All the energy seemed to drain out of Naishe’s body in an instant. She felt like she’d been gut-punched by her mother’s words. Her shoulders slumped. Any hope in her shrank away with the waves.

Maybe Luis was blind, or he thought that was how Rivainis expressed jubilation, because he beamed at the two women. “Marvellous!” He clapped his hands together, moustache twitching with glee. He placed two hands on Naishe’s shoulders and said, “I couldn’t be more thrilled.”

Naishe didn’t reply. How could she? Her whole world had just come crashing down in a matter of three syllables.

Luis jerked his head at someone out of Naishe’s eyeshot.

A thin rat-faced man scuttled down the gangplank of the beautiful scarlet ship Naishe had been admiring before.

“You and your mother must say a proper goodbye, yes?”

Naishe watched her mother and saw the woman she could choose to become. The life it would mean. She could choose to live by someone else’s rules. She could choose to surrender her freedom. She could choose to never live a truly happy life ever again.

No. Naishe couldn’t choose that.

She turned away from Hari. “No. I never want to see her again.”

“Euh…very well.” Luis extended a hand towards the ship. “After you then. _The Siren’s Call_ awaits.”

Naishe’s mouth was so dry she had to choke down oxygen. Her feet carried her forward without her brain even telling them to. She felt the creak of wood under her sandaled feet as she walked up the gangplank of the ship.

 _The Siren’s Call_ was even prettier up close. The deck wasn’t splintered. The paint wasn’t chipped. It looked sparkling new, as though it had been built just for Luis to sail across Rialto Bay. The crew didn’t even jeer and cat-call like so many others she’d seen. She could just make out the flag from this angle. A silver bull on a violet shield, just like the pendant around Luis’ neck. A man with his own ship must have some serious coin.

One of his hands was still on her shoulder.

“I know this must all seem very over-whelming, but Antiva is the crown jewel of Thedas. The moment we get there you will never want to leave. I guarantee it.”

She might have been convinced, but his grasp on her made the Rivaini feel like he was claiming her.

Perhaps her previous owner was watching.

“And…it will be difficult for you to understand now, but do not blame your dear mother. She’s doing what is best for you,” Luis gave her a fatherly smile which made Naishe uncomfortable. “Besides, you can see her again if you wish. She is welcome to visit whenever she likes.”

Chance would be a fine thing.

Fresh tears leaked down Naishe’s cheeks. A horrible rush of adrenaline filled her to the brim. She felt dizzy, and it wasn’t from the sea.

She walked quickly to the mast and leaned against it, taking several deep breaths.

“A glass of water for the lady,” Luis said sharply, snapping his fingers.

A silver goblet was offered to Naishe within seconds.

“My lady.”

She managed a quick grimace of gratitude to a man with so much oil in his moustache that he posed a fire hazard. She took a few gulps and sighed.

“Not to worry, my dear.” Luis waved the other man away. “The first part is always the worst. You’ll get your sea legs soon enough.”

Naishe nodded, “I’ve been on a boat before.”

“But not like this one,” his eyes twinkled and he patted the mast above her head fondly. “I’ve had _The Siren_ for about a year now. She’ll make a sailor out of you yet.”

Naishe took another sip. Even the damn goblet had sapphires on it.

Perhaps it was a glimmer of hope. Wherever she was going, she wasn’t exactly going to struggle. Not with a man who flaunted his wealth the way Luis did.

They said money couldn’t buy happiness. Maybe they were right, but Naishe was calling bullshit on that.

*

_I have devoted a lot of time to trying to find Madam Hari. I would not tell Isabela this or I fear she would never speak to me again. Or worse. She’s threatened to cut my balls off for less. Unfortunately, my searching has yielded nothing thus far. No records of a purchase she made in some market. No sightings. I cannot even say for sure whether she is still alive. She stopped being Hari a long time ago. Even if she is alive, would she even recognise the name? I have come up with countless theories of what might have become of Isabela’s mother. Presumably she joined the viddathari in Kont-aar. Perhaps she is still there. Perhaps the last Blight caught up with her. Or maybe she was part of the fleet that set sail for Kirkwall. To think that she and her daughter might have been in the same city and not known…_

_If I got to tell the story that I wished, the two would eventually reconcile. Hari would plead forgiveness from the girl she wronged. Maybe Isabela would grant her that wish, maybe she wouldn’t. The Isabela who was sitting across from me an hour ago recounting this chapter in her life would not. There was not a single tear in her eyes. No anger. Cold indifference. Something much worse._

_Whether Hari saved Isabela from a fate with the Qunari we will never know. But I believe with all my heart that she would not have sent her daughter away if she’d known what kind of man Luis Mali-Kricco really was._

*

Naishe had moved to the stern of the ship to watch the departure, Luis at her heel. It seemed it was afraid to leave her alone lest she change her mind and leap into the sea.

“The Mali-Kricco estate looks over Antiva City. The view is truly magnificent,” Luis gushed. “You can just about see it from the bay. I’ll point it out to you when we’re closer.”

Naishe wasn’t sure what was worse; him talking about what they were sailing towards or watching what she was leaving behind.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“Hmm? Just over an hour. _The Siren_ ’s unmatched for speed.” His moustache twitched like it was about to jump off his face when he smiled. “I’m lucky to have her. She’s the crown jewel of Antivan craftsmanship.”

“Right…” Hadn’t he already used that analogy?

“But I’m sure no one will be looking at her when we arrive,” Luis leered.

Naishe stared hard at the water, feeling uncomfortable again. A new life with him he said. Did he expect her to love him?

The crew of _The Siren’s Call_ worked quickly and quietly. All commands were barked once and attended to efficiently. The mooring line was released and the sails unfurled. They started to move, drifting away from the Dairsmuid harbour.

Naishe watched the space between her and her home widen, wondering whether she had just been captured or set free.

There was barely a whisper of wind in the air, but the waves rose and fell with the fervour of a storm.

The sailors scurried around tightening lines and snaking up the rigging, never coming within a metre of Luis and Naishe.

The latter started to feel strangely calm. This was the biggest ship she’d ever been on, but by no means the first. She and her friends had taken dinghies around the shores and even made the journey to Llomerryn a few times.

She loved the water. Careening along the ocean’s surface entirely at the mercy of the wind was unrivalled in the feeling it gave her. There was something comforting about knowing that she was completely out of control. Maybe a wave would capsize them, maybe it wouldn’t. A Maker had nothing to do with it.

Naishe liked the chaos. It was no different now. _The Siren’s Call_ tore through blue satin waves like a hot knife through butter. The stuffy looking rod-up-his-arse quartermaster issued orders with practiced ease.

It was all easy.

She wished she could freeze this moment. Just stay in this peace with the wind in her hair and the salt in the air. Never moving forward or back. The uncertainty of what lay ahead and the pain of all she’d left behind couldn’t touch her here.

“We’re making good time.”

The spell broke.

“Perhaps you’d like to come to my quarters for a drink whilst we wait, yes?” He offered out his arm expectantly.

“Oh…alright…” Naishe took his arm awkwardly. He was a good foot taller than her and she felt like a little girl taking her father’s arm

Although she would have preferred to stay out on deck and watch the waves, Naishe allowed Luis to lead her inside the ship and down the stairs to his quarters.

A shiny mahogany door with a plaque labelled ‘Captain’ opened to reveal the room. A couple of expensive looking oil paintings hung on the walls depicting scenes of debauchery and battle. There were three portholes through which Naishe could see the water slopping against the glass. Worryingly, a rack of rapiers hung above the head of the bed. A thick fur rug lay at their feet which looked suspiciously like bear hide. But what was most noticeable about the room was the orange. The walls, the desk and the curtains were all a revolting shade of apricot orange which stung Naishe’s eyes to look at.

“Pretty isn’t it? You can’t get paint like this easily,” Luis followed Naishe inside and gestured at the walls. “I had it shipped specially from Alamar. The artist said it should evoke the feeling of looking out on a sunset for the first time. Accurate, no?”

Naishe did something halfway between a shrug and a nod. It looked like the inside of a carrot to her.

“Come,” Luis marched across the room and pulled out a varnished wooden chair by the desk for her to sit.

She dutifully sat, spotting a large map rolled out on desk. Thedas. Almost all of it. Hand-drawn in exquisite detail. There were far too many names to read. Naishe barely recognised most of them. She’d read about Ferelden and the Gwaren werewolves. A few of the Tevinter cities also jumped out at her. A trio of orphaned slaves pursued by a wicked magister had fled across Neromenian. The cartographer must have poured their heart and soul into this map for months, even years.

The world still looked so huge, even on a piece of parchment.

Luis plonked another chair beside hers and sat down.

“So tell me Naishe,” he smiled again. “I want to know everything. Tell me your story.”

“Uhhh…” Naishe shifted in her seat. “My story?”

“Of course!” Luis took her hand in his and patted it. “I want to know everything about the woman I’ll be living with.”

Living with…right.

Naishe shifted again, looking at a point just above Luis’ head.

“Well…there’s not much to tell…”

“Nonsense!” Luis’ smile widened. “You must have plenty of stories from growing up in Rivain. I’ve visited of course but never for longer than a few weeks. Everything always felt so…” Luis grappled with a word in the air. “Authentic.”

Rich prick.

Naishe said nothing.

“You must tell me, is it true your people invite spectres from the Fade into their homes?”

Naishe raised an eyebrow incredulously.

This was not the first time she’d heard this question. Word had spread of how Rivaini witches conversed with the spirits. Somehow the rumour had gotten around that these women would send ghouls into the homes of children to give them nightmares, or even possess them. It made some people think of the Rivaini as savages.

“It’s not true,” Naishe said, irritated.

“Oh.” Luis’ smile faltered a little, but he regained it almost instantly. “Well, no matter. Wine?”

He reached for a bottle of Antivan red from a shelf above the desk and filled two goblets.

“Try this. You’ll never taste better.” He handed her a goblet and clinked it against his own. “To new beginnings.”

Naishe took a sip. It _was_ good. She felt the heat of the wine spreading down her neck.

Luis finished his swig with a burp and wiped his beard with the back of his hand.

“Good, yes?”

Naishe nodded.

“Have you had wine before?”

“Yes.”

“Rivain isn’t known for its wine. It’s the tea, isn’t it?”

“I suppose…”

The ship creaked, as though wincing on Naishe’s behalf.

“Delicious. I have never tasted anything so fine. Of course, I am not a huge tea drinker. But I can have some brought to the house if you would like. A little taste of home.”

“Thanks,” she said flatly.

Luis took another sip, then nodded towards the rack of swords. “Some of those are worth more than the ship. Wasted really. They are never used.”

Before Naishe could respond, Luis continued. “Is it true that boys are not allowed to fight in Rivain?”

Was he intentionally trying to sound stupid or had he really never spoken to any of Antiva’s neighbours before?

There was no Rivaini military to speak of. There were more worthwhile things to do in life than war. The conflicts were never worth it. No one was trained to fight unless they wanted to be. There were a few combat schools dotted around the peninsula. Viddathari were trained if they ascended the Qunari ranks. Nonetheless, it was not uncommon to believe Rivainis were soft.

Naishe’s hackles were raised, but she wasn’t sure she could face another stand-off today. She opted to finish her drink instead.

Luis continued as though she had answered anyway, reaching for the bottle to refill Naishe’s goblet. “Of course, I was a fighter, once upon a time. I trained with Caspian Di Marozzo.” He paused for Naishe’s reaction, but she didn’t know who he was talking about. “Perhaps he was before your time…Finest swordsman in the land. Tried to teach me how to handle a falchion but I was no good. I almost sliced my brother’s hand off when I was fifteen. Do you have brothers?”

“None.”

“Sisters?”

Naishe thought of her all her friends and their families who’d been so kind to her. None of them would have the faintest idea where she was. They wouldn’t even know she was gone yet. She shook her head.

She might have been more forthcoming under different circumstances, but it was hard to feel like sharing to the man she’d met less than an hour ago.

Luis finished his wine, ever-smiling. “I understand. You must be feeling nervous. This is all a lot to take in.”

Naishe shrugged, looking at her feet. She probably wasn’t the Rivaini fantasy woman Luis had been hoping for. Maybe she was being unfair.

“I’m just…it’s a lot to process,” she conceded.

“Of course,” Luis nodded. “It’s not every day a handsome stranger sweeps you off your feet.”

He was being playful. Insensitive and tactless, but playful.

The Rivaini pointedly took another sip of wine.

Luis chuckled. “Damn. Thought I had you there. You mother wrote that you have the most beautiful smile. I should like to see it.”

“I guess you should’ve paid a little extra.”

Luis’ whole body shook when he laughed. It made his belly wobble against his thighs and the skin around his eyes pinch together. “Oh, I like _you_.” He refilled his goblet and turned the conversation to the map. “I saw you looking at it. Nice, isn’t it?”

“Very,” Naishe said honestly. “I must’ve taken a lifetime to do.”

“Three in fact. The cartographer’s an acquaintance of mine. His sons were both sailors. They would go out and see the world then report back to him.”

Naishe looked quizzical, “He did all that from his sons’ memories?”

Luis nodded. “Absolutely. He lost his eyes in his youth anyway so he wouldn’t remember much.”

“He was _blind_?” Naishe looked incredulous.

“Astonishing isn’t it? I’ve never come across another map in such detail. Maker only knows how much of it is accurate but I’ve never been led astray yet.” Luis seemed thrilled to have finally found something to talk about. “Have you travelled much, my dear?”

Naishe shrugged. “Not really. I’ve seen a lot of Rivain and Llomerryn but-”

“Llomerryn! What a place. I was once pickpocketed by a shapeshifter. The _stronzo_ shifted into another person and pickpocketed me again!”

Naishe cracked a smirk. That sounded like Llomerryn.

“Ahh…There it is.” Luis smiled. “Your mother was right.”

Naishe’s smirk melted away.

Just as Luis was about to say something else, there was a call from up on deck. The port was in sight.

“Antiva awaits Naishe. After you.” Luis held the door open for her and followed her back up the stairs.

Naishe saw where the ship was headed and dashed to the bow to get a better look.

Antiva City looked very different to Dairsmuid. The harbour was engirdled by a stone drawbridge that was raising to allow them to pass through. Instead of wooden houses, there was stone. The buildings surrounded the docks in a semi-circle of ascending levels. The lowest levels contained a modest collection of homes. On the next level, the rooves her higher and the houses more elaborate. Churches and schoolhouses and smithies as far as the eye could see.

The highest level that Naishe could make out was dotted with neatly trimmed trees and…was that a castle? Up high must be where Luis lived, unless he had been exaggerating.

There was a buzz about the city that Naishe noticed almost immediately. Every lamp was lit. Every voice was speaking. There were throngs of people everywhere bustling around. The city was alive. The lights, red and amber and pink, made everything seem warm, despite the stony exterior.

Naishe gazed at it all in awe.

It was all new and alien to her, but she couldn’t help feeling just a little bit hopeful.


	7. Bait-and-switch

A silver carriage met them right on the walkway. Naishe barely set foot on the decking before she was ushered into the carriage by Luis. The horses looked distressed to be this close to water. Naishe felt guilty. She would have preferred to see more of the docks, but Luis clearly didn’t want to hang around.

He clambered in after Naishe, saying nothing to the crew of _The Siren’s Call_. “Esteban will have us home in no time at all.”

Naishe shrugged and settled into the cushions. They were the comfiest thing she’d ever felt. She tried to focus on the feeling to ground herself. Now that they were actually in Antiva, the adrenaline was back.

How could it be that just this morning had been another normal day?

“So, Antiva City…” Luis threaded his fingers together and nodded out the carriage window. “How do you like it?”

“It’s…noisy,” she said truthfully.

Even from inside, the sound of Antiva’s denizens echoed. This city didn’t sleep.

The horses tried clumsily to turn the carriage around without falling into the sea. After a few frustrated whinnies, they were trundling through the harbour.

“Noisy _certainly_. You’ll never be bored here.”

Watching the scenery out the window, Naishe was reminded of Rivain. People haggled and laughed and danced in the streets. Children tossed firecrackers at the ground. A game of ball had broken out just outside the harbour between a gang of pirates and…was that a centaur?

The carriage veered right before Naishe could get a proper look.

“The city was reduced almost to ruin during the last Blight. Then it was rebuilt. Then your Qunari friends came and destroyed a lot of it. Then they left and came back and left _again_. Then finally when we think things have calmed down, damned _dragons_ turn up.” Luis shook his head. “This city has seen its fair share of trouble.”

Naishe was only half listening. The thought of the city being freed from the Qunari gave her some hope, but then she supposed she didn’t have to worry about them anymore.

*

_The fortunate irony is that Antiva City would grow to be one of Isabela’s favourite places in Thedas. She visits whenever she is able. Debauchery is in the very air. It’s no wonder that she’s drawn to it. The events of her youth mercifully did not tarnish her affection for the city._

*

They felt the carriage tilt as it started to move uphill.

Naishe asked, just to be polite, “Have you always lived here?”

“No no…I was born in Bastion. We lived there for eleven years. Me and my family.” He scratched at his ear. “Sixteen of us there were altogether. My parents, grandparents, sister and ten brothers. Can you believe that? Ten!”

Naishe was momentarily distracted from watching out the window. “Do you still live with them?”

“Hmm? Oh _Maker_ no. We moved to Orlais for a time. My sister quickly found a nobleman to marry. Yes…We must have been there four or five years. I couldn’t _stand_ the food there. Or the people. Too proud of themselves in my opinion.”

Naishe eyed his bombastic outfit out of the corner of her eye but said nothing.

“Then…let me think…” His brow knitted together in a frown. “Markus got picked up by an apostate. He’s in Ventus now. Or he was. His last letter was over a decade ago. Not a drop of magic in the whole Mali-Kricco clan until him. Father was quick to get rid of him once he started making sparks fly.” Luis scratched his beard.

The carriage bumped over a rock or a pothole and Naishe knocked her head against the side.

“Oh yes that’s right! After Orlais we stayed in Hercinia very briefly. I don’t recommend the Free Marches. Dismal place…We came back to Antiva by the time I was one-and-twenty. After my father died my older brother Benito took over the family business. He was lost at sea on a trip back from Ferelden or some such nonsense as the business fell to me.” Luis leaned in closer. “Between you and me, I’m amazed he lived as long as he did. Benny was struck by lightning twice before that trip.”

Luis sounded remarkably chipper considering he was telling her about his brother drowning.

Naishe chose not to address that. “What _is_ the family business?”

“Ahh well…I suppose I am a merchant of sorts. I trade anything I can get my hands on. Wine. Weapons. Art. I have an eye for pretty things.” He winked and flashed her his teeth.

“Right,” was all Naishe said, before going back to look out the window.

Flags everywhere bore the golden drake of Antiva. They were a proud people and made no secret of it. From the angle they were hanging, Naishe could tell that the hill they were climbing had steepened.

Luis checked a silver pocket watch in his coat.

It was still light outside, but the summer days always stretched on. It was hard to tell what time it was.

Naishe felt like this day had lasted a week. She felt exhausted from everything.

“When we arrive would you like a bite of supper or prefer to go straight to bed? I can have the servants draw you a bath.”

Servants? She’d never had those before. Hari had always told her to be wary of someone with servants. They made them complacent and lazy. They expected everything to be done for them, and got angry when it wasn’t.

“Well…I’m quite hungry…” Naishe couldn’t quite meet his eyes when she said it. She felt strange at the thought of someone else making her meals and straightening her bedsheets. She’d been doing it mostly herself since she’d learned to talk. Hari hadn’t wanted a spoilt daughter.

Clearly she hadn’t wanted one at all.

Naishe felt a jerk in her heart at the thought.

“Excellent!” Luis met Naishe’s downcast expression with yet another wide smile. “I’m famished. Then perhaps a tour of the house, yes? Yes I think that would be nice.”

Something occurred to Naishe.

“I don’t have any clothes.”

“Oh not to worry, my dear. I had Clarissa buy you some dresses this past month.”

This past month? How long had he known she was coming to live with him?

“There’s plenty to choose from. I’m sure you’ll find something you like. I know an excellent tailor should any adjustments be required.” His eyes fell again to her chest.

“That’s very kind of you,” she said, crossing her arms.

Luis held up his hands, “It’s my pleasure Naishe. I want you to feel like a princess here.”

Naishe wasn’t sure how to react to that.

“And every princess needs a beautiful castle. Let’s go and see your new house.”

The carriage ground to a halt. Naishe hadn’t even realised they were on level ground again.

Luis pulled the handle down and pushed the carriage door wide open. He jumped out, then held out his hands for Naishe.

She let him help her out, but let go of his hands quickly. When she straightened, she caught sight of the house.

“Welcome home, Naishe.”


	8. Welcome

‘House’ was an understatement. The horses trotted up the paved path to reveal what looked like a palace to Naishe. Cream coloured walls that went up at least four floors. Ivy twisted around six thick stone pillars stood at the front, and continued to snake around the mansion. Ceramic tiles of an ostentatious shade of pink were layered like waves on the roof. The gravel path which the carriage crunched through sat between gorgeous stretches of grass. Naishe had never seen grass so green.

Identical marble fountains resided on each lawn. Onyx statues of drakes mid-roar sat at the corners of Luis’ home. Milk white peacocks strutted around freely, a couple of them pausing to watch Luis’ new company arrive, then deciding she wasn’t worth their attention and turning their feathers on her.

What was most impressive was the flowers. Hundreds, maybe thousands of petals greeted Naishe. Every colour under the sun. It was an assault on the senses. Roses, daisies, daffodils, sunflowers, alstroemerias, dragon’s wheat and even lunar weed. Naishe had thought the latter only grew underground. Luis was clearly a man who knew what he wanted.

The fact that there were no gates spoke volumes about his status, if not his ego. You’d have to be a reckless fool to try and steal from Lord Mali-Kricco. Still, as they approached, Naishe saw guards standing either side of the front door, armed with scimitars. Some security never hurt, she supposed.

The home seemed, in her mind, a little ridiculous. It was the pinnacle of opulence. She could see the appeal of a house as lavish as this, anyone could, but it was so far from the heart of the city. So far from anything. She was used to living ten seconds away from the harbour. Now Naishe felt secluded.

The horses pulled the carriage in to some stables to the right of the mansion.

Luis got out of the carriage first and offered Naishe his hand. “Welcome to your new home, Naishe.”

She took his hand and stepped out to look at the grand estate. It towered over her. She assumed Luis would expect her to be delighted.

“It’s…very beautiful.”

“A beautiful house for a beautiful lady.” He squeezed her shoulders and leant his chin on the top of her head. “You will live like a princess here.”

It was hard to doubt Luis’ words. Even the guards’ armour was gold.

How had it happened? Just yesterday Naishe had been skipping stones on Dairsmuid beach. Now she was about to start living like the kind of nobles she liked to pickpocket.

Naishe noticed the same coat of arms Luis was wearing dotted around the estate. A silver bull on a violet shield hung over the guards’ chest-plates, on flags on either corner of the house, and waving proudly on a pole on the roof.

A servant waited patiently in the foyer of the estate. She was from the Free Marches and was slightly less than a decade older than Naishe. The sun was setting, but she spied the large outline of Luis accompanied by who could only be his new wife-to-be.

“Ah! Clarissa,” Luis stepped forward and gestured proudly to the Rivaini girl. “Allow me to present my new fianceé, Naishe. An exotic Rivaini beauty, as dazzling as the sun itself.”

Naishe’s nose wrinkled. _Exotic?_

The silver-eyed servant girl, Clarissa, stood a little taller than her. She had a pale oval face framed by long frizzy hair. Naishe would later learn the term “strawberry-blonde”. Freckles covered every inch of skin Naishe could see, and, she was guessing, everywhere she couldn’t. She wore a plain but well-fitted linen dress. A sunflower necklace hung around her neck. Her lips were thin but she wore a kind smile that reached her eyes.

She stepped forward and kissed Naishe twice on both cheeks. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Naishe. Welcome to your new home.” Her Rivaini was good and she had a pleasant lilting brogue that Naishe had never heard before. It was almost comforting.

After being cast out by her mother and bought like a prize bronto by a man she’d never met, pleasantries weren’t at the top of Naishe’s list. She wasn’t sure whether Clarissa was serving this oaf of a man by choice or, like her, was there against her will. She opted for a non-committal shrug in response.

“Naishe is famished after our voyage,” Luis lay a thick hand on Naishe’s shoulder. “See to it that she is given a change of clothes before she joins me for dinner, yes?”

Clarissa nodded politely.

“I can take you on a little tour after we’ve eaten, my love.”

“Actually…” Naishe said a little timidly. “Everything’s been…I’m kind of tired.” She _was_ hungry, but the idea of eating was making her nauseous the more she thought about it.

The disappointment on Luis’ face was evident, but he recovered quickly. “But of course. You’ve had _quite_ the day.” He turned his attention to Clarissa. “Take Naishe to her chambers at once.” Back to Naishe. “You will join me for breakfast I hope?”

Naishe nodded.

“Very well then.”

Her new fiancée bent and kissed her roughly on the mouth. The Rivaini was taken aback. It was the first time any form of intimate contact had occurred between them. His breath smelled like stale drink and salted fish, and his beard scratched her face. As he made to leave, something occurred to him and he turned back to the servant.

“Oh. Make sure you find her something as pretty as she is to wear for tomorrow. The lady of the house deserves finery. We’ll have no need of…” he gestured to her slightly grubby dress. And with that, he strode off towards the right side of the estate. As quickly exiting her life as he had entered it.

“He’s going to his study to check the wedding arrangements,” said Clarissa. “Everything has to be perfect.”

_Is an unwilling bride his idea of perfect?_

Naishe felt the sting of tears looming in her eyes, and cast them down at the ground.

The servant woman felt a pang of guilt. “Come with me.” Clarissa took her hand and nodded at the estate’s front door. “I can bring you something to eat in your chambers if you’d like.”

Her mouth was now far too dry to swallow anything. But there seemed no point in fighting now. What good would it do? Naishe was all alone here.

*

Naishe fit the description Luis had given and then some. Her rich brown skin peppered with faint freckles. The smoothness betrayed her youth, but the generous curves the Maker had granted marked her as a woman. Her dark lips were rounded and full with a reddish tinge. Clarissa imagined she must look even more beautiful when she smiled.

At first glance, Clarissa thought her hair to be black. But the setting sun caught flickers of burnt umber and hickory all the way down to her shoulders. It was tangled from the journey. Luis would expect Clarissa to see to that.

What caught her attention most was Naishe’s eyes. Burning gold stared back at Clarissa. The eyes of a cat. If they hadn’t looked so frightened, Clarissa might have felt like prey.

_Older than the last one. Thank the Maker._

Clarissa led the way through two huge amber doors into Naishe’s new home.

A circular hallway with a purple tiled floor greeted them. Upon closer inspection, Naishe realised that the purple was, once again, the crest of the Mali-Kricco house. A bull fashioned in slate looked up at the two women from the floor. Its diamond eyes watched them all the way across the room.

“Your chambers are on the first floor. I hope that’s alright.”

Despite herself, Naishe almost sniggered. What a ridiculous thing to object to. “Uh…yes. That’s fine.”

The stairs split off to the left and the right. They took the left.

Naishe followed Clarissa down a hallway decked out in ugly beige wallpaper.

“This one is yours,” Clarissa turned the handle of the last door on the right and opened it for Naishe. “Lord Mali-Kricco’s bed chambers are opposite.”

So they wouldn’t have to share a bed? That was something.

The room Naishe saw before her was as big as her whole house back in Dairsmuid. It was hexagonal and mostly white. The walls and the curtains, even the bearskin rug had been dyed cream. The Rivaini was getting the impression that when Luis liked a colour, he stuck to it.

The only splash of colour was surrounding the huge bed. It was piled with plump white pillows and a shimmering red throw. A painting hung above it on the wall. An Antivan matador tussled with a coal black bull. The two kicked up dust in their wakes, too consumed by the dance.

“You can bathe in the room just through there.”

Naishe’s head snapped back to Clarissa.

She was in the centre of the room pointing to another door. “Just call for me or one of the other girls to bring you hot water when you need it. There should be…” She narrowed her eyes and cast them around the room. On a cream shelf sat a polished brass bell. “Ah. Here we go.” She picked it up. “Just ring this if you need anything. Someone will be along quickly.”

“Ok…”

Vases of scented white flowers and an armoire twice the size of Naishe lined the walls. There was a lute in one corner. An empty birdcage in another. Naishe’s eyes skimmed over the opulence, both awed and a little indifferent. She’d always imagined how the rich must live, but she never thought it would feel so empty.

Two glass doors opened out onto a small balcony. The setting sun was just visible through the leaves of a tree. It gave the room a pleasant warm glow.

“Do you like it?”

“Uhhh…”

_Would they actually give her another room if she said no?_

“This rug must be a bitch to get stains out of.”

Clarissa chuckled, “Let me worry about that.”

She walked across the room and opened the door she had just been pointing to. A golden tub was visible, along with a floor-to-ceiling mirror and yet more flowers.

“Perhaps you’d like a bath before you sleep? I’m sure you’d like to relax after the day you’ve had.”

Naishe couldn’t think about today unless she wanted to cry again. “Are you trying to say I smell?”

Clarissa grinned. “In the politest way possible. I’ll fetch the water. There are towels in the cupboard.”

As she made to leave, Clarissa gave Naishe’s shoulder a small squeeze.

Naishe was left alone in the white room. She looked at the painting again.

There wasn’t any fear in the matador’s eyes. Only determination. Even in the face of death.

Naishe stepped into the bathroom and peeled off her dress. Her hair was tangled from the wind. Her eyes still swollen from the tears she’d shed. She didn’t see much of the beauty Luis had sailed across the bay to find. Just a scared little girl.

The bedroom door opened again. Presumably Clarissa.

Naishe eyed a cupboard next to the tub. The first drawer was full of different ointments. The second had soft white towels.

Padded footsteps shuffled across the rug as Naishe wrapped a towel around herself.

Clarissa was joined by four other servant girls. They were each carrying a large jug of steaming water.

“Everything alright?” Clarissa asked.

_My own mother gave me away to be a stranger’s mistress._

“Yes. Thank you,” the RIvaini said to the women.

One by one, the servants tipped the water into the bathtub.

“Would you prefer to be alone?”

“No,” Naishe said instinctively. “Stay. I don’t mind. If you don’t need to be somewhere else.”

She didn’t feel like being alone right now.

Clarissa nodded and handed her jug to one of the servants as they filed out of the room.

Naishe looked at the bath. It did look very inviting. Her bones ached. Her head ached. Even her heart ached. Maybe the water would soothe all three.

She dropped her towel and climbed into the steaming water.

Clarissa politely turned away, but Naishe didn’t really care. The woman seeing her tits was the least of her worries.

The water _did_ feel good. The hot liquid wrapped its tendrils around Naishe and hugged her tight.

“Better?”

Naishe nodded. “Thanks. I really needed this.”

“It’s my pleasure Naishe. My job is to make you comfortable here.”

Naishe didn’t know if Clarissa would ever be able to do that, but she said nothing.

Clarissa was still facing the door, which made Naishe smirk a little. “You can turn around. I don’t mind.”

The blonde woman grimaced and turned, keeping her eyes unflinchingly fixed on Naishe’s.

“So, how was your journey over here?”

Naishe swirled her hands around in the water.

“Actually, can we talk about something else? I don’t think I can talk about myself right now…”

Clarissa nodded, “Of course, Naishe.”

“Where are you from?”

“Hercinia, in the Free Marches. Do you know it?”

Naishe shook her head.

“Well…” Clarissa sat down with her back against the tub. “Harvestmere is the best time to see it. The leaves turn amber and red. You have to wade through them to get anywhere because they come up to about here.” She tapped the rim of the bathtub.

Naishe pressed her arms against the side and leant her chin on them to listen.

“And the pumpkin carving. _Maker_ , I miss that. The whole village gets together and harvests the biggest ones. We carve suns into the skins and light candles inside. They look _glorious_ at night. And we stew the flesh to make pumpkin soup.” She sighed. “It was nice for the village to band together…” Clarissa trailed off. The Marcher felt strange talking about herself like this. But she realised it was because no one here had ever asked. “My parents are still there. They keep a few goats. I send them coin every month.” She glanced at Naishe, suddenly self-conscious.

Naishe’s eyes were stinging again. She cupped water in her hands and splashed it over her face.

Clarissa looked over, smiling sympathetically. She hoped it didn’t look like pity. “Let me do your hair.”

Naishe blinked water out of her eyes. “Alright.”

The blonde kneeled up and reached for a bar of soap on one of the shelves, then positioned herself behind Naishe.

The room was quiet, save for the splosh of water that Clarissa combed through Naishe’s hair. The Rivaini closed her eyes when she started lathering soap into her roots.

Hari used to do this for her, but she pushed the thought out of her mind. She focussed on the feel of Clarissa’s fingers and the steam rising from the bathwater.

After Clarissa had rinsed her hair once more, the Rivaini stretched her arms and stood. “Thank you for that.”

Clarissa dutifully jumped to her feet and picked up the towel for Naishe. “Are you sure I can’t send up some food? Maybe a snack?”

The Rivaini shook her head and said, “No…Thank you. I think I just need to sleep.”

“As you wish.” Clarissa held the door to the bedroom open for Naishe.

The bed did look very inviting. Maybe she’d lie down and wake up at home. This whole wretched business just a terrible dream. What a story Naishe would have to tell her friends.

“It’ll be alright you know,” Clarissa said from behind her. “You’re safe here.”

Naishe didn’t believe her. She eyed the painting yet again.

The bull bowed its head to strike.


	9. Introductions

Despite what she’d hoped, when Naishe opened her eyes, she was still in Antiva.

Golden sunlight streamed through the curtains. The faint sound of birdsong could be heard. The bed was soft and warm. Under different circumstances, Naishe would’ve felt like she was in paradise.

That man was waiting for her. With his bad breath and yellow teeth.

Naishe just wanted to stay in bed and pretend, but her stomach was growling. She hadn’t eaten anything in two days.

There was a light knock at the door. A familiar blonde head appeared, smiling as ever.

“Morning. How did you sleep?”

Naishe sat up a bit more. “Alright. Bad dreams.”

A crinkle formed in Clarissa’s brow as she entered the room. “I’m sorry to hear that. I’m sure tonight will be better.”

Naishe shrugged.

“Breakfast will be served soon. Lord Mali-Kricco would appreciate your company, but I can bring some food up if you’d-”

“No, it’s alright. Just…” Naishe grimaced a little. The reluctance to see Luis again was being superseded by the feeling of her stomach starting to eat itself. “What should I wear?”

“I’ll show you.”

Clarissa crossed the room and opened the wardrobe.

An astonishing number of dresses, shirts and tunics hung inside. Every colour under the sun. Every material. Wool and silk and cotton and fur. It seemed Clarissa had her prepared for any occasion, despite the fact that Antivan weather rarely dipped below sweltering.

It was impressive that Clarissa was even able to find what she was looking for amid the labyrinth of garments.

She pulled out a turquoise dress for Naishe.

“This will look nice on you. Unless you would prefer something else?”

Naishe shook her head. “No, it’s good. It’s perfect.”

Clarissa smiled, “I think Lord Mali-Kricco will like it too.”

The Rivaini shot Clarissa a look that begged her not to bring up the lord of the house again.

“Arms up.”

Naishe obliged and Clarissa slipped the dress over her head. She caught her reflection in the mirror and stared.

It was strange how different she already looked. A change of scene, a change of clothes and freshly washed hair worked wonders on slowly erasing Naishe’s identity.

Her hair was sleek. Her skin, which up until now had rarely been without some dusty residue, was positively glowing. The dress fitted her perfectly. Luis had clearly specified exactly what kind of body type Clarissa should cater for. And the colour _did_ suit her. Naishe had never worn turquoise before. The dress was so light and airy that she could barely feel it. The neckline dipped low, leaving little to the imagination. Presumably another Mali-Kricco recommendation.

So this was her new life. Although her heart was hammering in her ears and adrenaline was burning through her veins, Naishe wasn’t exactly horrified by what was staring back at her.

“You look beautiful, Naishe.”

“Thank you.”

When the Rivaini smiled at her, something stirred in the pit of Clarissa’s stomach. She blinked a few times, hoping to shed the warmth spreading over her cheeks.

“I think that was the bell for breakfast.”

Naishe nodded, “Right. OK.” She took a deep breath, clocking herself over once more in the mirror.

Well, here goes nothing.

Clarissa offered her a pair of matching satin slippers and they made their way downstairs towards one of the many dining rooms.

Naishe felt her throat getting dry as they walked down a corridor on the ground floor. Clarissa tried making conversation, but she could only manage a few closed-mouthed noises of acknowledgement that she had said anything.

Luis had an affinity for extravagances, if that somehow hadn’t been clear to Naishe already. Whilst there weren’t any living guards to be seen inside the house, several doorways featured two statues of bears or eagles standing post. There were even a few suits of steel armour here and there. Burgling this place would set someone up for life a thousand times over.

It was all too soon before Clarissa said, “Here we are.”

Another set of wooden doors with polished brass handles stood before them.

“I’m not allowed in,” the servant girl said.

“Oh.” Naishe swallowed. Her nerves at seeing Luis again were tussling with her growling stomach. In the end, the latter won.

“Naishe! Come here my darling! Let me have a look at you.”

Luis was sat alone at the head of a ten-person table, but stood when Naishe entered the room.

“Ahh…like a princess. Didn’t I say she was beautiful?” Luis said to no one in particular.

Naishe crossed the room towards Luis. The dress was flowing behind her like wind was whispering through it. She supposed it was meant to look elegant. She _felt_ like a twat.

Luis was dressed in silver today. His shimmering jerkin stretched tight over the vast expanse of his belly. The silver underlining his eyes only accentuated how his eyes travelled over her body with hunger.

“Yeeees I like the blue very much. Like the water I had to cross to be with my love.”

Naishe was nauseated, even more so when he gave her lips a wet peck.

“I must introduce you to some very special guests, Naishe.” Luis made a flourish with his hand as though someone were about to walk into the room, but no one did.

Naishe jumped out of her skin when a wrinkled leather footstool to the right of Luis’ chair removed its hood. He was the shortest dwarf she’d ever seen. Once the hood and collar had been pulled down, white hair spilled out around what Naishe now realised was his cloak. His eyebrows joined in the middle and she could just make out two milky white eyes. His skin was as tough and leathered as the cloak he wore, and dark as umber.

Luis gazed down at him fondly, “This is Thir Pluret. Renowned linguist and canticle scribe. He served under Emperor Etienne Valmont himself.”

Naishe almost gaped. _How old_ is _this man?_

“He’ll be here as a linguistic whetstone if you will. Fine-tuning your King’s Tongue…”

Well, that wasn’t so bad. She knew the language pretty well already and she supposed further learning would be helpful for the future.

“…and helping you to sound a little more…refined.”

Naishe raised an eyebrow. “What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

Luis bared his yellowed teeth in a wide smile. “Nothing to concern yourself with, love. It is simply the image you wish to present. You want what is best for us, yes?”

“Uhh…”

“Exactly.” He gestured for Naishe to sit in the chair to his left, opposite the dwarf who had yet to say a word.

“You may have gathered by now that I am in a professional position of great importance. It is essential that my…home life reflects that. Yes?”

_Fancy clothes. Fancy house. Fancy wife._

“Yes…”

Luis gave her what she suspected was meant to be a comforting smile. “I would not change a hair on your head, my princess. It is merely what others will think. Silly really. You already look the part. Now you must _sound_ the part. Thir is here to help you… _relieve_ some of your Rivaini roots.”

_What the f-_

Luis was dancing around the point. Her accent. That was it. That was the ‘Rivaini root’ that was so unfashionable.

Naishe frowned.

Why had he gone to the trouble of marrying a Rivaini nobody when he clearly desired some stuck-up noblewoman from Ferelden?

“What’s wrong with my accent?”

“As I said, nothing.” Luis was a little shorter with her this time. His patience momentarily vanishing.

He closed his eyes, let out a little sigh, and opened them again.

“Darling,” he took her hand. “You mustn’t take this personally. I want to show you off to _every_ one, and I would hate the idea of someone saying ignorant things about you just because of where you come from. I know how that can feel.”

He actually looked sincere.

It was bullshit, but it didn’t matter. Of course this hadn’t been some selfless gesture to help her. Of course this was all just about the image. How his new wife would reflect on him. The looks of a Rivaini, the voice of, what, an Orlesian comtesse? A Ferelden highborn? She’d barely been here a day and Luis was already sucking out every part of who she was. It was exactly what her mother had tried to do. Neither were satisfied with who Naishe really was.

But there was nowhere to run to this time.

Naishe felt defeated, and nodded in assent.

Luis clapped his hands together. “Marvellous! Thir is a wonderful teacher. Even helped me a few times with my own enunciation.”

Naishe doubted very much that that was actually true, but didn’t say anything.

As soon as Luis had clapped his hands, the doors opened and servants came streaming into the room laden with plates and platters of food.

“Your idiolect could not be altered by Andraste herself.” Thir’s voice came as a surprising squeak amidst the bustle.

“…right.” Naishe hadn’t encountered many dwarves that kept the Andrastean faith. She thought all the Orzammar lot worshipped some rock. Thir spoke with no trace of an accent, so it was fruitless to try and pinpoint where he might be from.

“Always pass on what you have learned. Every moment is lesson.”

Naishe shrugged. “Nothing worth passing on yet. Besides pickpocketing Karasten.”

She recalled racing through the streets of Dairsmuid with an angry Qunari on her tail when she was nine. She’d nabbed an elixir bottle from its belt. It wasn’t of any significance to her; the Qunari never carried anything on them beyond weapons and other essentials. She had just been bored. When she returned home, Naishe’s mother had given her a stern telling off then inspected the bottle. She’d stolen it back and taken a swig. It took three days before the sky stopped melting into her hands. Hardly an experience worth passing on.

“That most of all.”

“Wh-”

A polished golden plate was placed in front of her.

“Ham! Delicious.” Luis grinned, eyes glistening. A crow eyeing up a fresh feast.

The ham had a golden sheen of honey enshrouding it. The pink meat beneath was the most tender Naishe had ever tasted.

The room was silent, save for the sounds of cutlery scraping plates and the slurping of goblets.

“I heard word of the Crows expanding to Tevinter in the months to come. False rumours?”

“Do try the carrots, Naishe,” Luis said somewhat hastily.

Thir persisted, his mind apparently now barren from any thought of linguistics. “What use would slaves be to your cause, I wonder. Or is it magicks you set your eyes upon…”

Naishe’s irritation was replaced by curiosity. She chewed quietly and watched Luis from the corner of her eye.

Luis took a long sip from his goblet and licked the remnants from his lips.

“Quite the rumours you’ve heard. Has our minstrel friend let his imagination run away with him again?”

Thir said nothing.

Luis shrugged. “There would be nothing to be gained from consorting with slavers, I assure you.”

Naishe’s curiosity got the better of her. “Crows as in…the Antivan Crows?”

“Did I not mention? Oh forgive me, princess, it must have slipped my mind in all the excitement.”

If it weren’t for the hard glance Luis shot Thir, Naishe might have believed the theatrics.

“The House of Crows are…political influencers in Antiva.”

“I know who the Crows are Luis.” She didn’t see the point in tact right now. “You’re one of them? An assassin?”

Luis barked a laugh. “Maker no. A few past misdeeds have been sensationalised. They are nothing like they used to be.”

Naishe smirked. A few past misdeeds like murdering a queen?

“I am involved in a minor capacity. Financing. Politics. All very mundane, no?”

Naishe doubted every syllable, but didn’t say as much. She had only seen Luis as an entitled but ultimately harmless oaf. But that veneer was quickly slipping.

“But I don’t want you to worry yourself with that, my darling.” Luis leaned forward, his elbows on the table so he could gaze at Naishe. “Tell me about you. What is the first thing in Antiva you want to see?”

“Uhhhm..” Naishe racked her brain. She hadn’t actually given the city much thought in the whirlwind of everything. She tried honesty. “The markets. They say that Antivan markets-”

“‘An Antivan market is the centre of the universe.’ Says a lot about the ‘tivan people but…I don’t disagree.” Luis chuckled. “I’ll take you. Perhaps tomorrow.”

“You asked for Lady Mali-Kricco’s lessons to begin tomorrow.”

Luis and Naishe turned to look at Thir.

“Ah. Yes. In the morning, yes?” His head snapped back to Naishe. “Then we can spend the whole afternoon together.”

This time, every fibre of Naishe’s being didn’t entirely recoil when Luis kissed her cheek. Either she was already warming somewhat to her captor or the promise of seeing the city was successfully buttering her up.

Either way she felt guilty.

 _Lady Mali-Kricco._ That was something that would take getting used to.

They finished lunch with a smattering of small talk and vacated the dining room.

“Perhaps I can show you around a bit, yes? I’m sure you are anxious to get to know your new home.”

Luis took Naishe’s hand before she could reply and marched down the corridor.

“Very nice to catch up with you Thir! We must do it again some time,” he called back.

Naishe looked behind her as they strode away, and caught a glimpse of the dwarf hobbling slowly along the carpet.

“Firstly, I think the armoury.”

“Armoury? I thought you dealt with finances.” Naishe looked a little incredulous.

“Yes yes.” Luis smirked. “Family heirlooms mostly. Though you can’t be too careful in this city. A thousand men would _kill_ to get their hands on me…And those are just the ones I know about.”

The Rivaini wasn’t entirely sure whether Luis was talking about his riches or literally himself.

A guard stood watchful outside the door to the armoury. When he saw his master approaching, he promptly pulled out a key and unlocked the heavy iron door.

“Thank you Joaquin.”

With a screech, the door swung open to reveal a circular stone room lit by a dozen candelabras. The domed ceiling had a sunlight at the top, shooting rays directly onto a set of armour.

“ _This_ is mine.” Luis gestured to the armour in the centre.

There was the bull again. Silver iron against a boiled leather chest piece which had been dyed purple. Someone had also gone to great lengths to polish the leather until it glistened like steel. Naishe thought it looked ridiculous. Did you really want to stand out in battle?

She noticed the left pauldron bared the insignia of the Antivan Crows. A mask of black feathers.

There was a leather helmet with a violet feather sprouting out that was longer than Naishe’s torso.

At least he can tickle them to death, she thought.

Luis brushed a bit of dust from the abdomen of the suit. “My father’s. And his father’s before that. I have only worn it once. No need for it in my line of work, you understand. Such a shame really.”

“Is any of it used?” Naishe was casting her eyes around the room at the other suits of armour. There must be about twenty sets standing proudly.

She recognised the chained harness as a Rivaini design. It left the chest exposed so the owner could flaunt their tattoos.

The plate armour had to be Ferelden. Naishe could see her reflection in the metal from across the room.

“Sadly no,” Luis said. “A waste, I agree. But they have become heirlooms of a kind. My grandfather collected them. He was the fighter in the family.”

In addition to armour there were also weapons. Swords, daggers, knives, scimitars, sabres and axes. In fact, there wasn’t a single non-bladed item present.

“Did your grandfather not believe in ranged weapons?”

Luis chuckled. “He was an advocate of looking into your enemy’s eyes when you killed him, I suppose.”

“Charming.”

“He wasn’t a particularly warm man. But don’t fret. I _obviously_ didn’t take after him,” he said with a wink.

Naishe smirked. _Obviously_.

She wanted to take a closer look at some of the knives. Their jewelled hilts sparkled invitingly at her like gold to a magpie. But before she had taken so much as a step towards one, Luis took her arm.

“Lots to see! Come now, princess.”

Naishe rolled her eyes. It had barely been a day and she already _hated_ being called that.

He escorted her out of the armoury and back down the corridor.

As they were walking, Luis asked, “Do you have a large family Naishe?”

Was he seriously bringing her family up? “No.”

“No?”

Naishe shrugged. “Just my mother. I never knew my father and my grandparents died before I was born.”

“Ahh I see.” He sounded sympathetic. “I am sorry to hear that. But perhaps we shall change that, yes?”

Naishe looked at him quizzically.

“Yes. You’ll see.”

The next room that they entered seemed to be empty, aside from a huge fur rug. Upon closer inspection, it turned out to be bear fur. Sad vacant eyes stared up at Naishe from the floor.

“This is _my_ family.”

Luis planted his feet firmly on the bear skin as he faced the wall.

Naishe joined his side as looked at a sprawling family tree woven into a tapestry.

There had to be at least a hundred portraits staring back at them, each the size of dinner plates.

“Can you spot me?”

It took Naishe a while but she found him eventually. His name was sewn underneath in cursive writing. Luis Augustín Timoteo Mali-Kricco. He and his ten brothers all looked very alike, but Luis had a characteristic smirk that was hard to miss. He had been handsome as a young man. Where they were now full cheeks and a thick neck, there had used to be a strong square jaw and leaner collar.

His father, Rodrigo Fernand Luys Mali-Kricco, looked very like what Luis did now. He gazed down at her with the same dark beady eyes.

“The bull is everywhere in Antiva.” Luis gestured to the family’s heraldry at the top of the tapestry. “My family is well-revered.”

“I figured.”

Luis removed his signet ring to show to Naishe. The bull again. “You’d be amazed how many doors this can open.” He smirked and returned it to his finger.

Outside, Naishe thought she heard the clop of horse hooves.

“And here…” Luis walked forward and patted a blank space next to his face. “…is for you.”

She swallowed. _No pressure._ The only thing more intimidating than the space next to Luis was the one under him. Naishe had no interest in furthering the Mali-Kricco line.

“Yes…I’ll have someone come by to do your portrait. After the wedding, of course.”

Naishe swallowed again. The wedding.

“Ah Hamaal! Come in then.”

He was so light-footed that the Rivaini completely missed the elf stood in the doorway.

He was a young timid looking thing with dark skin and deep purple eyes that flitted all over the place, never meeting Naishe’s. His short sleek brown hair was combed back out of his face. Sharp cheekbones and full lips had made him handsome, although he seemed too terrified to realise.

He approached Luis mutely, standing about a foot shorter than his master.

“Well? Out with it boy.”

Hamaal quivered when he spoke.

“Hamaal’s my right-hand man. Aren’t you?”

The elf jumped when Luis gripped him by the shoulder, and cast his eyes down at the ground.

“A loyal servant in my household. Seven years now, isn’t that right Sparky?”

“Ei-Eight.”

“Eight! Ha! Eight long years.” The Antivan sighed as though overcome with nostalgia, then returned his gaze to Naishe. “I look forward to spending ten times that with you, my darling.”

 _Ten times?_ He was at least fifty. Naishe doubted he’d last even half that. _She_ certainly wouldn’t.

“Anyway…You wanted something?”

“Yes, my lord…” Hamaal looked like it pained him to even stand in this room. Ser Kamas has arrived. He would like to speak with you…immediately.”

“He has?” Luis cursed. “I wasn’t expecting him for another week. Didn’t you tell him that?”

Hamaal’s ears drooped, “Yes. He is insistent.”

“Ugh.” The Antivan wrinkled his nose. “Fine. Tell the girls to fetch us some wine. The dry stuff.”

“Ser Valisti is with him.”

The effect of those words was instantaneous. Luis’ eyes perked up and a childlike grin spread across his face.

“He is? Ah! Marvellous.” He clapped his hands together. “Yes, at once! We will meet them in the parlour.”

Hamaal bowed his head then shuffled out the door.

Luis rounded on Naishe. “There are some people I would like you to meet, Naishe. I’m afraid our tour will have to wait.”

Naishe sighed, and followed in his wake. She felt like a piece of furniture he was trying to place, but never satisfied.

Two-hundred dark eyes followed them out the door. Naishe felt every single one.


	10. Boys

Pravus Kamas walked with practiced grandeur. He had a slender frame, and his clothes were gorgeous emerald green robes of velvet so thick they barely moved. The topaz adornments were indicative of his wealth. A thick grey ruff covered his neck beneath which a stunning silverite brooch sat. This was a man with a lot of coin, and wanted everyone to know it.

When Naishe's eyes finally stopped admiring his clothing and arrived at his face, she almost shuddered. His face was terribly pallid, almost grey, and was adorned with an unsettling sneer. His skin seemed to be stretched tightly onto a head too big for it. Pale grey eyes dominated an unusually large portion of his face, and bore into Naishe's. There was the bare minimum of a receding hairline left on his head. Thin, black and wiry, almost like scratches.

His head oscillated ever so slightly from side to side, in a curiously reptilian fashion. He reminded Naishe of a snake, and she half expected his teeth to be fanged when at last he spoke. Instead, they were black.

"Ah, the famed Rivaini beauty. Well met, Naishe."

She hated the way he said her name. It was like he was spelling out a meal he intended to devour.

He held out his hand to shake, but when she took it, it remained limp and indifferent.

"Pravus handles all of my investments. My accountant, if you will." Luis was smiling, but his expression was a little tight.

Pravus bristled at this. "Broker."

"Apologies. Broker." Luis lowered his voice, "As though that makes a difference." He raised it again, "You've dealt with some of the greats haven't you. Mantavian. Jerichosarch. Karafol. He's involved with other merchandise as well. Iron weaponry. Cattle. Lemons…"

Naishe nodded as though this meant anything to her.

"Such a sparkling endorsement. How kind you are," Pravus said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Naishe couldn't stop staring at his eyes. They made her incredibly uncomfortable, but she couldn't look away.

"And where is Claudio?" Luis asked hopefully. But he needn't have bothered.

Naishe smelled the man before he entered the parlour. Claudio Valisti was so liberally perfumed that his scent alerted people to his arrival several moments before he actually showed and lingered long after he departed. A counter-productive trait for who she would learn to be was an assassin.

"Claudio Valisti. A valued member of the House of Crows."

He reminded Naishe a little of the portrait of Luis in his family tree. Glossy brown hair combed with precision. His features were strong and defined, moulded from granite. Like many Antivan nobles he had rouged his tanned cheeks and lips a touch. Dazzling white teeth were perpetually bared in a wicked smile.

Unlike his fellows, Claudio wore armour. Usually for an Antivan, he was plated in steel that shone almost as brightly as his teeth. A scarlet jerkin covered his chest plate and a cerulean cape was draped over his shoulders. Everything about him spoke of colour and vitality.

He and Pravas could not have looked more out of place together.

"Aren't you going to list some of my many achievements?"

"And prevent you an opportunity to talk about yourself?"

Claudio made a dog-like bark of laughter and took Luis' hand. "Always a pleasure."

Luis snapped his fingers.

Servants, which Naishe noticed this time were all female, flitted into the room baring wine, grapes and pistachio nuts.

"You weren't joking, Luis. She is a _beauty_." Claudio's eyes were fixed on the Rivaini.

"What did I tell you? Asha Campana, yes?" Luis' eyes slithered over Naishe. "The resemblance is uncanny."

Naishe had seen paintings of the queen and didn't agree, but that hardly mattered now. She was starting to piece together Luis' desire to wed a Rivaini.

"Smile, my dear." Claudio gave her hand a light squeeze. "This is a new chapter in your life. You should be excited." When she didn't respond, he continued, "You have to take some risks in life. Otherwise, what's the point in living?"

He had definitely used that line before. But Naishe smiled. There was something kind in his eyes.

The corners of her mouth pulled upwards slightly.

"Good. But I know you can do better," Claudio winked.

"Let's see…what time is it?" Luis asked to the room.

"Not even noon," Pravas answered in his high-pitched sneer.

" _Merda._ I must be getting slow." Luis nodded to the servant girl beside him you promptly filled a goblet of wine for him.

"I've been telling you that for years!"

"Yes, Claudio. But when _you_ talk I fantasise about being burned alive because it's preferable to whatever garbage you're undoubtedly spouting."

Claudio snorted with laughter. "Coglione."

"Cheers."

As the two men took great gulps of wine, Pravas cleared his throat.

"There is business that needs attending to."

Luis rolled his eyes. "Oh don't be a spoilsport Pravas. Come! Have a drink! Speak to my beautiful fiancée. Business can wait."

Pravas' eyes, if it were possible, bulged even more out of his head. "This matter is of the upmost importance, as you know. Unless you'd like to explain why you've got magisters breathing down your-"

"Alright! Fine!" Luis downed his drink and huffed. "Let's go to my study." He passed the cup off to a girl at his elbow, frowning.

Naishe was privately wondering what magisters could have to do with the Antivan Crows, and it seemed Claudio was having similar thoughts. His eyes had narrowed a touch as he watched Luis.

"Forgive me, princess." Luis approached Naishe looking a little irritated. "Needs must."

If she'd felt awkward being kissed before, it was nothing compared to doing it in front of his friends.

"Perhaps I can show your charming wife-to-be around." Claudio was smiling pleasantly at Luis. "I have no interest listening to you two scheme over who owes who what. Naishe is _far_ better company."

Luis straightened up and snorted. "I would have you thrown from my rooftops if only to see you soil your breeches."

"I'll take that as a yes."

The master of the house smiled. "Go ahead. This shouldn't take us more than an hour."

Pravus bristled next to him. "There is much to discuss…"

"Then I suggest you talk quickly!"

Claudio held out an arm for Naishe to take. "Shall we?"

" _Antiva is full of men more dangerous than they are attractive." That's what she told me. "If only their manhood matched the size of their coin purses."_

" _And what of the unattractive ones?"_

_Isabela raised an eyebrow. She knew was I was getting at. "That lecherous little shit isn't even worth the breath."_

_I smiled. "I couldn't find any word of Pravas Kamas in the libraries. He's probably dead by now."_

" _Good." Isabela smiled sweetly. "I hope it hurt."_

" _I could make up a prolonged death for this if you like."_

_She let out a throaty laugh. "That could be cathartic." Her brown knitted together a little in thought. "How about…impaled by a charging druffalo."_

" _Flogged to death by Divine Beatrix."_

" _Castrated with a spoon and left to bleed out."_

" _Choked on his own eyes."_

_The tavern was filled by the sounds of our guffawing. It was unusually empty for a warm evening. Only the barmaid and a snoozing mage sat in residence, the former absent-mindedly wiping the drool of the latter._

" _Well, time flies when you're having rum." Isabela checked that her tankard was empty and stood. "Another time kitten."_

_I looked at her with some disappointment. "Oh. You don't want another drink? Or to continue with th-"_

" _Tomorrow, I'm all yours." She procured a coin from the air and flicked it onto the table. "But right now I'm all_ his _." She nodded at the door._

_I turned to see a beefy dwarf whose dreadlocks almost reached the ground. He gave the pirate an easy smile which she returned._

" _Sweet dreams!" she called back as they left the tavern._

_I turned back to the table, alone. Looking down at the spidery handwriting before me, I was tempted to just continue the story myself. I would certainly finish it sooner._

_There was a cry of laughter outside. A woman's. Was it her voice? I strained my ears to hear._

_No. I couldn't do this without her. As much as I tried to fight it, the truth was that I needed her. For the story. For everything._

_I left the tavern minutes later and returned to my bed in the only cramped dormitory I had been able to afford. Curled up in my bed, I thought only of her._

Indifferent white peacocks bathed in the sunlight as they meandered through the estate grounds.

In the daylight, Naishe got a better sight of the sandstone walls that protected the mansion

Behind the impressive estate and beyond the walls, an ocean of grass which sprawled on for miles. It looked utterly out of place next to the city they had driven through yesterday. Horses were grazing, seemingly freely. It would have been a wholly beautiful landscape if not for the light blinking off the helmets of Luis' guardsmen. Groups of them patrolled along the fence from the point where the estate's grounds met the fields. They straightened up and one put out a pipe as they approached.

"Just showing her around. Don't mind us," Claudio said pleasantly.

The guards murmured words of apology for being in their way and moved off.

"All his," Claudio said, baring the guards no more thought. "As far as the eye can see. There's a village at the other end of the field. Marzamenti I think it's called. I can't say I've ever been. Some of the villagers look after the horses, I believe."

Naishe raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Claudio merely shrugged. "Luis has no interest in livestock. He only uses the horses for travel. The black one for racing." He pointed to a snorting stallion munching on hay.

He took her next to a stone courtyard painted with turquoise and rust coloured tiles at the rear of the mansion. The walls were lower hear and Claudio pointed. "There are fruit orchards a few miles north. Public technically but he owns them. You should get fresh orange juice whenever you want it."

Naishe had never had it fresh before. Her mother had brought a jug from an Antivan salesman but it had travelled several hours by that point and was unpleasantly warm.

"And what about the vines?" Naishe had noticed the grapevine snaking all the way around the sandstone walls and off into the distance of the nearby village. They engirdled the mansion in a way that made her feel bound.

"Hmm? Ah yes. The grapes that grow here are good but they make terrible wine." Claudio chuckled. "Sour. But you'll have no shortage of good wine, I assure you."

"Oh. Okay." It didn't make any difference to her.

"And finally…I want you to see the cliffs."

Their journey up to the estate had been relatively safe. The winding road wasn't steep and was perfectly safe to travel on.

On the right side of Naishe's new home, however, the gently incline was replace by a sharp drop straight into the ocean. There were no guards on this side. No need.

"You see? Impenetrable. You're probably safer here than King Maric's own castle."

Naishe watched the waves crashing against the cliff-face. Impenetrable or inescapable?

"I imagine this is all a little…overwhelming for you."

She tore her eyes away. "Well…" Overwhelming was an understatement. All of the changes in the last twenty-four hours had hit her like a cannonball. The dust hadn't even had time to settle. "Yes. It's overwhelming."

Claudio smiled and looked out to sea. "You know, I was born here in Antiva City. But I never touched the water. Not for years. My father would take my brothers and sisters sailing in dinghies; I always refused. The idea of relying on a few planks of wood to keep me from the ocean's grasp was terrifying to me. I was convinced I would drown. Until one day, my oldest sister Margharite tricked me. She lured me to one of the rock pools along the cliff side. I used to be fascinated by starfish. Just as I was leaning over the water," he thrust his hands out in front of him. "She pushed me from the rock pool straight into the sea. It was windy that day, and I couldn't swim. I could barely tread water and I was _sure_ a wave would either send me flying head-first into the cliff, or suck me underwater. But it didn't. I thrashed around in the water and kicked my legs. When I kicked, I felt my body moving, just a tiny bit. I kicked some more, and I was able to keep my head above the water long enough to see the beach. I started using my arms and kicking with everything I had. It took a long time, but I was finally able to swim to the beach. I must have lain on the sand for half an hour before I felt strong enough to stand. When I did, Margharite was smiling down at me."

Naishe could see what Claudio was getting at.

He returned his gaze to her. "You see my dear, sometimes we are thrown into unwelcome situations. It's inevitable. But we have to be strong. Swallow our fear and fight. You have to feel the saltwater stinging your eyes to fully appreciate when your head breaks the water. You see?"

Naishe was quiet for a while, until finally, "So you're saying I should dive off here and swim home?"

Claudio burst out laughing. His laugh sounded like a crow cawing. Something rough in it too. It didn't quite fit the handsome and genial visage.

The Rivaini smirked. He evidently wasn't going to take her seriously.

"That's the spirit Naishe." He sniggered a little more. "Come. They must be finished by now."

When they returned indoors, they found Luis and Pravus just outside the study.

"…that or nothing. If he can cast spells he can pay back loans."

Pravus' teeth were bared as though he might bite Luis, but he didn't get the chance.

"Ah! There you are!" Luis smiled widely and took Naishe's hands to kiss them. "How is my bride-to-be? Satisfied with your new home?"

Naishe smiled as genuinely as she could muster. "Yes…It's very…"

"Wonderful! I'm so pleased." He looked at Claudio. "Will you stay for lunch?"

Claudio shook his head. "Not today. I simply wanted to meet your dear fiancée before the wedding." It was his turn to kiss her hand. "It's been a pleasure, Naishe. I suppose I will see you in a few weeks."

Luis looked a little crestfallen that Claudio was leaving but recovered quickly. "Yes. Perhaps you will bring that beautiful elf of yours. What was it…Romália?"

Claudio rolled his eyes. "Nakiasha. And no. She won't be coming."

Luis wrapped his arms around Naishe's shoulders and rested his chin on her head. They bid farewell to Claudio and Pravus from the front doorway. Claudio left with a flourishing bow. Pravus nodded curtly at Luis and stalked away without another word.

"At last, some peace," Luis said.

Naishe gently twisted herself out of Luis' grasp so they could face each other.

"Claudio mentioned…a few weeks?"

He smiled wide. "Yes! Three! Our wedding, my princess. It's going to be an unforgettable day."

Naishe didn't doubt that. She swallowed, not quite meeting Luis' gaze. It was all too real. This man, old enough to be her father. A week from now he would be her husband. Stranger things had happened in the world but not to Naishe.

She wondered what her mother was doing at this moment. Making lunch for herself in the empty house. Or perhaps she was already with _them_ now. The knot in her throat tightened.

"Naishe," Luis adopted a kindly tone, getting down onto his knees and taking her hand. "I know you must have some reservations about all this. Our union as not…conventional. But I promise you will be happy here. We will make each other happy. You need only trust me." His smile was, for the first time in the Rivaini's experience, truly sincere. His eyes shone with compassion and he suddenly looked like the hand-woven manifestation of his younger self in the family tree. Not so much the seedy merchant she'd seen in the docks of Dairsmuid the previous day. He looked at her as though he was seeing beyond the pretty young girl to who she really was.

Naishe was still in shock; that much was certain. However impossible it seemed, she knew it would eventually pass. He was offering her a chance she would never have again. Living a luxurious life in the most affluent city in Antiva. They would be able to travel to far off lands together; something Hari had never been able to do. Luis could give her everything she could ever want, surely. She'd surely roll her eyes at any girl who would turn an opportunity like this down. She didn't love Luis and maybe she never would, but Naishe was damned if she wasn't going to try.

"Alright then." She smiled too. When she leant down, she couldn't quite bring herself to kiss him on the lips, and opted instead for his cheek.

Luis seemed satisfied with that. He stood, beaming. "I am the happiest man in the world today. Come, my princess. What would you like to eat for lunch?"

"So you met Pravus?"

Naishe looked at Clarissa blankly.

Clarissa widened her eyes as large as they would go.

"Oh _him_." Naishe grimaced, "Creepy bastard."

"You can say that again. I couldn't sleep for a week after I met him." Clarissa lowered her voice a little, "I heard a rumour that he's part goblin."

"Are those even real?"

"You just met living proof."

Naishe giggled, feeling at ease. She had spent the whole afternoon talking with Luis. Her about growing up in Rivain and her wishes to see more of Thedas. Him about the carnivals in Seleny and his business. He mentioned the export of precious metals used for constructing buildings and weapons alike. It suggested to Naishe how he might have made ties with the Antivan Crows, though he never admitted as much. She had returned to her bedchamber to bathe and sleep off the day's affairs. Clarissa had been dutifully waiting.

"Just be careful around him," the blonde Marcher looked at her seriously. "He's a slimy little shit."

The Rivaini laughed some more. "Speaking from experience?"

"I'm serious." Clarissa moved around to the other side of the bathtub and took Naishe's ankle in her hand. She was filing her toenails down until they were neat and symmetrical. "He's like a snake. He'll watch your every move until he finds an opportunity to strike and them bam!" She squeezed one of her toes, "You're dead."

Naishe, ticklish as she was, was trying to wriggle out of Clarissa's grip. "He's killed people?"

"No. Well, not that I know of. But you know what I mean. He's treacherous." She forced Naishe's foot into submission and started filing away. "A girl that used to work here, Ellaria, accidentally spilled whiskey on his sleeve once. He threw the rest of the bottle over her and demanded that she pay for _all_ of his robes to be replaced. She barely had two gold pieces to rub together so he said she could repay him by drinking the whole bottle of whiskey."

"So…he made her get very drunk?"

"He made her mute. It was firewhiskey. It burnt her tongue so badly that she could never speak again. All because of a little spill."

"Wow…What a gem."

Clarissa nodded. "I'll say."

It didn't entirely survive Naishe. Pravus looked like a pantomime villain. No wonder he was as unpleasant inside as he was out.

"Oh sweetheart I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you."

Naishe realised she was frowning and looked up at her. "No no! Really I was just thinking…What you said makes sense. I'm not worried."

"Sure?"

"…mostly."

She smiled. "It'll be alright. All of this. Don't you worry."

"I know. It's just going to take some getting used to."

"Of course. Anything you need, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thanks," the Rivaini stared into the silver eyes of the other woman. By rights she should have felt like a stranger, but Clarissa was a comforting presence that she already felt used to. It would surely make Hari happy to know her daughter was being looked after.

"Come on then. Let's get you into bed."

"Are you propositioning me Clarissa?

"Oh hush."


	11. Education

Thir was waiting for Naishe outside the dining room the next day. “Good morning.”

“Morning.” The dwarf made her a little uneasy

He led her slowly to a room she hadn’t seen before. It had ugly puce curtains and several leather sofas. In the centre of the room was a table stacked with books and a quill in an inkpot. Thir climbed onto the sofa and gestured for Naishe to set beside him.

“Move the table closer please,” he squeaked.

Naishe did so until the dwarf could peer over the books. She had been certain from his white eyes that he was blind. But Thir picked up a book and held it so close to his face that he must have been reading the title of _The Tome of Syntax_.

“We will start with the alphabet.”

“I can read,” Naishe said with some irritation.

Thir squinted at her. “I was informed that you could not.”

Naishe took the book from his and flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for. “To patronise.”

Thir exhaled sharply. Perhaps it was meant to be a laugh. “Very well. We can move on then.”

The Rivaini was annoyed. Only Luis could have told him that she couldn’t read. Had he just assumed that she was illiterate without even asking? Some fiancé.

“When you say ‘patronise’, you roll the ‘r’. Can you try without doing this?”

“Uhh…alright.” She tried, but it still sounded more or less the same.

“Try moving your tongue further back against the roof of your mouth.”

She tried again.

“Better. And the suffix. ‘ise’. It should be a ‘z’ sound. ‘Eyes’ rather than ‘ice’. Please try.”

Naishe repeated the word over and over until Thir nodded.

“Good. You will practice this.” His wrinkled face formed a smile. “Now Naishe, I must reassure you that we are not going to go through every word in the King’s Tongue like this. It would be a waste of your time and mine.” He leant over the table and picked up a different book. _The Nine Trials of Hekledes._ “I would instead like you to begin with this.”

The Rivaini raised an eyebrow, then shrugged and swapped her book for his. “You want me to read this out loud?”

“I would.” Thir shuffled back against the sofa and waited expectantly.

“Yes...okay.” She flicked the book open to chapter one. “Brave Hekledes was the strongest warrior in all the land. It was said that he could break a thousand…”

Naishe continued to read until she finished the chapter. Thir only interrupted a few times to repeat a word she had said. It made her feel a little self-conscious. She’d never thought about her accent before. She’d never needed to. Naishe was still rather insulted that Luis felt she _needed_ to change. But she wasn’t sure refusing to try would earn her any favours with the lord of the house. And she felt a little bad wasting Thir’s time when he’d come here only for her.

“The ‘d’ in Daphne should have a hard ‘dh’ sound, as opposed to the ‘g’ in geranium.”

When she reached chapter two, Thir gently took the book from her.

“Good.” He squeaked. “That is enough reading for today. I would like you to tell me about the karasten you pickpocketed.”

Naishe blinked. “Uhh…you would?”

“Certainly. The best way you will achieve your goal is by practice. Reading _and_ conversation.”

“Ohh I see.” She racked her mind back to this particular encounter. “Well, it was just outside Dairsmuid. A group of them were escorting a saarebas somewhere. One of them had a pouch on their belt. I hardly ever saw Qunari carrying coin so I assumed it had to be worthwhile. There was a beehive in one of the trees hanging over the path they were walking on.” Naishe chuckled. “It was easy in the end. Earned my friend a few stings though.”

“The Qunari caught you?”

“Almost. I got the purse, but they were more worried about the saarebas. I guess they thought the bees would set him off.”

Thir exhaled sharply. It was hard to tell whether this was out of disapproval or amusement.

“Anyway…it wasn’t coin they had. Just nails.”

“Ah. So it wasn’t worth all that trouble?”

She smirked. “It was worth it just to see the look on their faces. They were furious. ‘Vinek kathas’ this and ‘ebost issala bas’ that. They didn’t chase us though.”

“You must have picked up some qunlat, growing up where you did.”

Naishe shrugged. “Ataash Qunari is about the only thing they ever said. And it’s not like many were dying to have a conversation. Not with me anyway.”

Thir regarded her for a moment. “It is a culture I am most interested in. I confess I have had very limited exposure to their kind.”

“Keep it that way.”

The dwarf frowned a little. “Perhaps you would like to talk about something else.”

“Yes actually.” Naishe crossed her legs beneath her, happy to be changing the subject. “Where are _you_ from?”

“Knob Hill.”

Naishe snorted with laughter. “What?”

“Knob Hill.” Thir sighed. “It is a village outside of Kassel.”

“And that is...?”

“In The Anderfels. A long way from here.”

She was smirking now. “You must be sad to be away from…Knob Hill…”

“I do miss it, yes. It is a beautiful place. No more than fifty people reside there. It was peaceful. Idyllic.”

“So why did you leave?”

Thir laced his fingers together. “I was not so enamoured with tranquillity in my youth. I wanted to see the world. Seek adventure.”

That sounded all-too familiar.

“I travelled to Orlais when I was six-and-ten. I didn’t have two silvers to rub together and I was quickly shunned from the upper echelons of society that I was trying to permeate. I tried to become a guardsman but they had an unspoken no dwarf policy at the time. But this was in Etienne’s time and I believe things have changed since then.”

 _Etienne?_ He ruled over a _century_ ago.

“How old-”

“I was not successful as a guard but I seemed to have a skilled tongue.”

Naishe raised an eyebrow. “Right…”

“I would spend a lot of time in taverns surrounded by young men.”

“Yes…” She felt suspicious about where this was going.

“They would even _pay_ me for my services.”

“Okay…”

“I was the most famous pick-up artist in Salmont.”

“Ohhhhhh.” Not quite what she’d been thinking. She grinned.

“‘Throbbing Thaddeus’. That’s what I went by in those days.”

Naishe was biting her lip to refrain from laughing.

Thir looked deadly serious. “In my asininity I believed that I could be the leading authority in the arts of seduction. I would approach women using the most depraved methods. But they lapped it up. My ‘customers’. They followed my words as though they were verses in the Chant of Light. It soon became a steady business for me.”

“And…you don’t do this anymore?” She secretly hoped his answer would be no.

“Evidently not.” A smile cracked through his features. “I tired of that life too. It became unfulfilling. Even dull. I eventually left Salmont.”

“So where did you go next?”

“I moved around Orlais for a while. Then to Nevarra. I could never seem to settle. I thought I might find myself among my kin in Orzammar, but alas no.” He was silent for a while and looked a little sad. Naishe wondered if she should say something when he spoke up again. “At some point I realised that the thing that drew me to that life of seduction-”

Naishe bit her lip again.

“-was the wordsmithing. I had to adapt to every girl. Every situation. They all wanted something different and I had to be the answer every time. It made me curious about language. I was always able to pick up languages quickly. But the curiosity grew and grew. I studied for a time at the University of Alamar. The history of language and its evolution.”

“That must’ve taken a while.”

“Relatively speaking, I suppose. I studied there for nineteen years. I was the first student ever to complete the course.”

“Nineteen years!?”

He nodded.

It was hard to picture. Her whole lifetime just studying the words of other people. “You must speak a lot of languages by now then.”

“Thirteen currently. I had quite some difficulty with Rivaini. The verb conjugations are unlike any language I have encountered. And almost all nouns are assigned a feminine suffix. It is most unusual in Thedas. And there are at least _thirty_ dialects in the south alone…” He blinked a few times and cleared his throat. “Forgive me. I can get a little carried away.”

“Don’t worry.” The Rivaini had decided that she liked Thir. He was strange but sweet. He had clearly had quite a life.

They carried on talking until Naishe heard the bell for lunch. She helped Thir off the sofa so he could hobble to the door.

“I will see you again in two days.” He stretched out a leathery hand to squeeze hers.

“Alright. Thanks.” She squeezed back. “To be honest, I thought this was going to be…”

“Boring?”

Naishe grimaced.

Thir’s milky eyes twinkled. “Nothing is what it seems on the surface, Naishe.”

Her grimace turned to a genuine smile as she looked at the former pick-up artist. “Evidently not.”

He made to leave, but stopped just outside the door and looked back. “This gives me no pleasure, Naishe. I would prefer things were different and you were not ‘required’ to have these lessons. I believe they are unnecessary. But I suppose we must all do unwelcome things. I hope you can forgive me.” He looked a little sad.

Naishe’s heart warmed towards the dwarf. “It’s alright. We’re made of strong stuff, right?”

He smiled and departed.

*

During lunch, Naishe asked Luis if they could go into the city. She wanted a chance to explore the heart of Antiva. Luis said he had to visit a friend about some business today, and suggested she lounge on one of the sunbeds in the courtyard. When Naishe asked if she could go with him, he merely laughed.

She tried the sunbed, but found herself fidgeting after five minutes. The Rivaini didn’t like to sit still for long. Since she couldn’t leave the house, she wondered around inside. A door to a passageway she hadn’t visited before was open. When she arrived at the end, she saw what must be the servants’ quarters. There were more than a dozen three-tier bunkbeds crammed in. The décor was decidedly less lavish than the rest of the house. Simple rust walls with a few pictures dotted around of loved ones. There was a large piece of parchment nailed to the wall by the door of the staff rota.

“Naishe?” Clarissa poked her head out from one of the middle bunks. “What are you doing here?”

“Just exploring.” She approached the other woman. She seemed to be the only other person in there. “Not working today?”

Clarissa shook her head. “In half an hour. I was just taking a break.”

Naishe perched on the bedframe of the bottom bunk and leant her forearms against Clarissa’s bed. “You’re brave sleeping here.”

The Marcher raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Middle bunk. I’d be too afraid that I was going to get sandwiched in the middle.”

Clarissa merely smiled. “I like it. It feels cosy.” A small crease appeared in her forehead. “Andrastí snores though.”

Naishe looked at her incredulously. “ _Who_?”

“Andrastí. His mother was a great believer. He _hates_ it. But we obviously tease him.”

“Obviously.”

“‘Maker knows where I left the dustpan. Andrastí, can you have a word?’”

Naishe smirked. And she thought _her_ name was bad. “So you don’t get much free time then?”

The blonde woman shrugged. “We get one day off a week. But I’m not complaining. This is a big improvement from my last job. My employer was a wyvern breeder. And let me tell you, there’s only one thing scarier than wyverns.”

“Dragons?”

“Wyvern droppings.” Her nose wrinkled again. “Ugh.”

“Refreshing the flowers in the dining room must be a step up then.”

“You have nooooo idea.” Clarissa smiled, but her eyes looked a little sad. “I do wish…” she trailed off.

“What.”

“No…it’s silly.”

Naishe poked her knee. “ _What_?”

“It’s just…” she sighed. “I used to…Back home…I used to visit a butterfly house.”

“Is that a euphemism for something..?”

“No! An actual house for butterflies. They raised them from caterpillars. It was my favourite place in the world. Then I came here…” She sighed again. “Lord Mali-Kricco, _Luis_ , once commissioned an artist to paint a scene in the courtyard. The model was a shapeshifter. He transformed into all sorts for the painting. One of the creatures was a moth. Luis caught me watching the painting one day and asked me why I was so interested. I told him about the butterfly house. He must’ve been in a good mood that day. He started talking about how he thought they were ‘eye-catching’ and might add one to the gardens. He actual had plans drawn up to build it but…I suppose something else caught his attention.”

“So no butterflies?”

“No butterflies.” She seemed rather disappointed. “Such a shame. They’re so beautiful when they hatch. The cocoons are so lovely. But when the chrysalis breaks away and their wings emerge…it’s sublime…” A glazed expression was forming on her face now.

Naishe snapped her fingers in front of her face. “Anyone in there?”

Clarissa blinked. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly.

“Don’t be.” Naishe grinned. “We have these fanged skippers in Rivain. They feed on rats.”

Clarissa looked slightly horrified.

“Kidding.”

“Oh,” she chuckled.

Naishe had warmed to Clarissa a lot. It felt like she truly had someone on her side for once. “Was it just butterflies you left in Hercinia? Did you have someone?”

“You mean a husband?”

The Rivaini sniggered. “Husband. Wife. Desire demon conquest. Anything.”

A mischievous glint that Naishe hadn’t seen before appeared in Clarissa’s eyes. “No. But it’s funny you should mention demons…”

“I _knew_ you were just one in disguise. No one’s eyes are _that_ perfect.”

Clarissa covered her blush by clambering out of her bunk and rifling through a satchel. When she found what she was looking for, she turned and handed it to Naishe.

“A book?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Is it a magic book?”

Clarissa grinned. “Just open it.”

Naishe took it from her and flicked through the pages. “What are-ohhhhhhh…”

The book was full of sketches. Very detailed sketches. The illustrator had spent a lot of time and effort meticulously outlining various erotic scenes. They included men, women, humans, elves, qunari, centaurs, and sure enough, demons. They were all enjoying the fruits of one another in increasingly acrobatic poses. An angel’s wings were outstretched in ecstasy as a couple of dwarfs attended to her privates one on page. On the next, a handsome elf had his lover on a desk with his legs around his neck.

“What chantry sister did you pickpocket?” Naishe said, eyes still glued to the pages.

“I think there actually _are_ some chantry sisters in that.” Clarissa had never shown the book to anyone else. But she’d somehow suspected that Naishe wouldn’t be revolted.

“Ah yes. _The Non-Believer_. What do you call that?” Naishe pointed at the page. The scene showed a whimpering chantry sister whose robes lay abandoned in the corner. A horned demon with a wicked smile was stroking her face. Another had her legs entwined with the sister in equal throes of joy.

“I believe it’s called scissoring.” Clarissa felt her ears heating up again. She mimed the action with both hands.

“And here I was thinking you were all innocent.”

Clarissa pouted a little. “I’m _older_ than you.”

“So I guess it’s you corrupting me then.” Naishe grinned. “I don’t know about some of these positions though…” she said eyeing the book once more.

“Think of it as an education.”

“Getting a lot of that today.” Naishe looked at her. “But seriously. Why are you showing me this? I mean don’t get me wrong, it’s amazing.”

Clarissa rubbed her arm a little self-consciously. “I suppose…I don’t know…I suppose I thought you might need a little distraction now and then. If you were ever worried or…or just wanted to take your mind elsewhere.”

The Rivaini reached out and squeezed Clarissa’s fingers. “That’s sweet of you. Thanks.”

Something between them changed, and Clarissa was glad. Perhaps without realising, she had wanted Naishe to see her as a friend. Not just her maid. It wasn’t only Naishe who felt lonely here.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for _The Top and Tail_ though.”

“Well you did say the idea of being sandwiched in the middle scared you.”

“Shut up,” Naishe smirked.

Clarissa found herself thoroughly satisfied. Her ‘gift’ to Naishe, however small, felt like a tiny rebellion against Luis. He doubtless believed he had full control over his wife’s body. Over her pleasure. Well, not any more.

Over the next few weeks, the servant wondered whether Naishe was making use of the book, and one afternoon her question was answered. The bedroom door was ajar and Clarissa’s arms were laden with fresh towels. She poked her head round the door to check if Naishe was sleeping. She was on the bed, but her legs were spread wide, a hand between them. Her face was flushed and she was biting her bottom lip. The book was face up beside her.

Clarissa felt her own face heat up, her breath catch in throat. Her fingers fumbled on the towels and she almost banged her head on the door in an effort not to drop them. She withdrew as quickly as possible, a strange thrill washing over her.

Later, when she was lying in her bed in the servants’ quarters, Clarissa’s own hand drifted beneath her sheets.


	12. Bound

Within three weeks, Naishe found herself being groomed, perfumed and adorned to within an inch of her life. Her assorted handmaidens swarmed around her, chattering determinedly at each other in a variety of languages about her appearance. It took at least twelve tries for them all to be satisfied with her hair. Someone tsk’d at her length. Apparently Antivan brides typically grew their hair to be much longer for the big day. Naishe’s was barely past her shoulders. They braided it as best they could, interweaving carmine flowers and dabbing her hair with sweet-smelling oils. A young elven girl added a large daisy native to Rivain. She said something about preserving heritage, but Naishe was hardly listening. Despite her best efforts to be calm, she was riddled with anxiety. She was nervous and twitchy, and they had to keep dabbing her brow to keep it dry.

The maids gave her sympathetic looks as they brushed oils and powders onto her face. When they were done, her eyelids were sparkling like emeralds, and her lips were almost purple. The glittered powders made her look ethereal, almost ghost-like. Her eyes had been painted with black ink to accentuate her eyes even more. Naishe felt horribly uncomfortable. She wanted nothing more than to rub her face, but she resisted. In fact, she barely reacted the whole time they were dolling her up, mutely turning her head or raising her arms when required. She looked almost catatonic. It wasn’t sadness exactly. Tears weren’t about to start ruining their meticulous handiwork. But Hari played on her mind. If her mother could give her up so easily, why should she stay? What was there for her in Rivain? She was just scared. What would her life be like as Luis’ wife? Would she be expected to act a certain way? Would she be punished if she didn’t? Did he want children? Naishe wasn’t ready of any of this. How could she be? She was still just eighteen. A child.

“You’re trembling.”

Clarissa again. The other servants sympathised, but Clarissa seemed to genuinely care. She took Naishe’s hand in hers and stroked it gently. It was true. The Rivaini was shaking.

“It’ll be alright. It’ll just be a little ceremony…”

The amber eyes that met hers didn’t look convinced. Neither was she.

“Hold her face sideways, Rissa.”

Naishe looked up. A lanky woman was standing before with a large sewing needle in one hand and ice cubes in the other. Her eyes widened.

“Do we have to do this now?”

The woman nodded at Clarissa. “Ice melts if we don’t. Lord ‘Kricco want this now. Not when she walking down aisle.” She saw the confused look on Naishe’s face. “Just pierce ears. It won’t hurt for long time. You are strong girl.”

 _Easy for you to say._ Naishe thought, eyeing the needle-holder’s intact earlobes.

She didn’t protest. What good would it do? They pressed ice cubes on either side of her earlobes to numb them, then a needle was rammed through the flesh. It stung, but that was it. They mopped up the spots of blood and added trailing silver earrings.

Then came the dress. A blistering pastiche of those worn by Antivan royalty. It was a dark berry purple with long sleeves that puffed out so much her arms appeared bigger than her waist. There was no neckline, merely a white ruff that kept her face permanently pointing up. Lest anyone assume Luis wanted his wife to appear modest, there was a large hole in the chest of the garment for her cleavage to show. There was also a hoop in the hip to make her look unnaturally curvaceous.

The material was velvet so heavy Naishe could barely stand up in it. It took three women to get her into the wretched thing. When at last Naishe was ready, she glanced at the mirror. She didn’t recognise the girl staring back. She looked like nobility, albeit not any kind of nobility she’d ever seen before. Naishe supposed this might be what Orlesian ladies wore to balls or formal gatherings or whatever it was they did in Orlais to pass the time. She looked older too. The makeup, as tasteless as it was, accented her cheekbones and eyes, giving the illusion that she was closer to her late twenties than almost nineteen. They’d given her black heeled shoes that increased her height but made walking virtually impossible.

“You look lovely.”

“I look like a witch from a children’s book.”

Clarissa chuckled and took her hand, squeezing it. “Honestly. You look beautiful.”

Naishe sighed. As she was guided out the room, she tried to think of the positive side of things. The last few weeks hadn’t been so bad. Aside from speaking lessons, she had been free to do whatever she liked in the estate. When Luis wasn’t busy with work, which was often, he would join her. He’d been trying to teach about fine wines and how to play chess. But while Naishe didn’t wholly dislike Luis, he still unsettled her. He leered at her chest regardless of what she was wearing and his breath was chronically foul. Naishe was used to wearing the same clothes for two or three days at a time. Now, whenever Luis politely asked her to change three times a day, she felt like a doll of his meticulous design. As cordial as Luis could be, she would never shake the feeling of disgust that he’d paid for a young girl to live with him.

But Naishe had never been rich. She had lived a life of basic necessities and hand-me-downs. As a child, she’d always found her entertainment in whatever she could get her hands on. Whether it was playing with a washed up starfish on the beach, or accompanying her mother to trick some half-wit out of his coin. Luis was far from poor. None of her clothes were second-hand and she had free access to more books and jewels and instruments than she knew what to do with. There was a friendly apostate on hand in case she became sick as well as the innumerable supply of servants that waited on her hand and foot. Her life could be a _lot_ worse. How much harm could a wedding do?

“Your fiancé is waiting for you in the hall.”

Naishe blinked. “Isn’t it bad luck for the groom to see the bride before the wedding?”

Clarissa smiled as she walked Naishe down the stairs to where the man of the hour was waiting.

“I have to make sure you look the part, my dear. I want every man in the room to go green with envy.” Luis looked her up and down as he spoke. He reached forward to touch the velvet, and purred with approval. His eyes predictably lingered on where the dressed was stretched to accommodate her curves. “Yes. This will do nicely.”

He was wearing a simple burgundy doublet and white jodhpurs, accompanied with thigh-high white boots and a cloak of muslin with the Mali-Kricco coat of arms that reeked of the same perfume Naishe had been drenched in. It stung the eyes and made them water if you inhaled too quickly. His eyes had thick black makeup surrounding them, and his cheeks had been reddened. His black hair was slicked back into a braid to match hers. Naishe supposed that to the trained eye, Luis scrubbed up well. To her, they both looked ridiculous.

He barked orders at a servant to get the carriage ready, then marched out the front door.

“I can’t come with you,” Clarissa said to her now. “I have to travel with the rest of the girls in the servants’ carriage.

Naishe looked at her with pained eyes. “Oh…”

Clarissa sighed and gave her an awkward hug. She didn’t want to mess up any of their handiwork. “It’s going to be alright. Just…try to enjoy yourself.”

The Rivaini never looked younger to her than she did then. Beneath the lavish makeup and extravagant costume was a scared girl. Those wide soulful eyes made Clarissa’s heart ache.

The bride and groom travelled in separate carriages away from the mansion, down many bumpy cobbled roads until they arrived. Naishe was feeling a little queasy, and she couldn’t tell if it was from the journey or the fact that she would soon be married. She tried to focus on the details of the scenery passing her by to make the journey seem longer, but they arrived all too soon.

From the exterior, the location was nothing special. Flat white stone walls. Burnished brass lamps at the door. And not a soul to be seen waiting for the bride and groom to enter. It was eerily quiet as they approached the entrance. Even the sea had adopted an unusual quietness.

To Naishe’s dismay, no sooner had she exited the carriage was she being lead onto a litter and lifted up by four men. In her embarrassment she looked around for Luis but he was already inside. They marched slowly forward with her on top. Lanterns lit the path up to the entrance of the church.

Outside had been nothing special. But inside. _Shit_. It was the most opulent hall Naishe had ever seen. She tried her utmost not to let her jaw drop. There were two long trestle tables either side of the aisle groaning under a pile of food and a fifth at the head of the great hall. A hand-woven banner of the Mali-Kricco bull on the Rivaini flag hung behind the fifth table. A crowd of around two hundred guests stood either side of the entrance chatting, laughing and arguing. Sapphire flames burned in brackets dotted along all five walls. A mage was surreptitiously rekindling them as he did endless circuits of the room, muttering the spell under his breath. Scarlet drapery hung from the ceiling. Ice sculptures in the rather tasteless shape of naked women lined the walls. A small orchestra of dwarves were playing their jewelled harps over the racket of everyone else. Live phoenixes sung from the rafters. A battalion of courtesans were already entwining themselves in the masses.

As for the guests themselves; they came from all walks of life. Knights in full armour, novice mages concealing staffs under their cloaks, nobles from Tevinter, several sporting crowns, a Seeker of Truth, elven mercenaries, dwarven pirates, Tal-Vashoth aristocrats, actors, opera singers, weavers, ambassadors, merchants, bards, witches, princes, spies and dragon-wranglers.

The noise of all these people, instruments and wildlife combines made Naishe’s ears ring. But when the door clanged shut behind Naishe’s litter, a hush descended. The guests quietly shuffled backwards to Naishe down the aisle to where Luis and another man was waiting. The orchestra ended their sweet melody and struck up a wedding march.

The service itself wasn’t wholly exciting. A School of Arcana in The Weyrs had evolved over the years into a monastery. It remained unclear to outsiders who the monks worshipped, but they were often called to perform marriages in Antiva. Today it was a young, unassuming man who went by Fol. There two emerald green chairs in front of Fol; Luis took the right. The monk knelt in front of him and removed Luis’ shoes, then placed his feet into a bowl of water. The original significance of this ritual had been lost. Supposedly, the groom was meant to wash the bride’s feet and vice versa to symbolise service and commitment to one another. The Ferelden tradition had been repeatedly distorted, not that anyone really cared. Naishe was next.

Usually, a Rivaini bride or groom was escorted down the aisle by their mother. Instead, Naishe was paraded on her litter and set down next to Luis. She felt very self-conscious of all the eyes on her in the absolute silence once the music had ended. She was a little ticklish, but the foot washing was over in a flash.

Fol spoke of the bond that was being made today and the future that lay ahead in a low murmur. Most of the guests missed what he said. As he spoke, he dipped a finger into a bowl of white paint and made two dots under each of their eyes.

The first was meant to represent support and loyalty, “…and you promise to help him through good times and bad.” 

The second, fidelity, “…may you never lie with another so long as you live.”

The third, honesty, “…may you never mislay your trust in one another.”

The fourth, security, “…and to promise to keep her safe from harm to the best of your ability.”

As he spoke, the young mage’s hand dipped and swept through the air like a conductor’s baton. Thin cords materialised from nowhere and weaved themselves around the bride and groom’s joined hands, quite literally tying the knot. Antivans had never been known for their subtlety.

It was supposed to feel supportive, hopeful. Naishe felt trapped.

Back to the chairs they sat, and someone pulled a large veil over their heads, and a tarnished mirror was held before them so they might look at one another in private. Fol was murmuring something in front of them.

“This is the day something wonderful truly begins, my princess.”

_This will be the day I become an alcoholic._

Naishe said nothing and merely smiled quickly.

Luis leaned over and pressed a remarkably soft kiss on her lips. She would have thought he was being genuinely tender, but Luis’ eyes dipped to her reflection’s cleavage within seconds. The cords binding them together were separating and slithering up each of their hands. Finally, they joined themselves around the ring fingers of Luis and Naishe. They started to burn, biting at their skin, but the rings soon shone gold, their transformation complete.

Naishe tried her best to ignore the pain in her finger. If that wasn’t some in-your-face symbolism that the marriage was a mistake, she didn’t know what was.

The veil was swept away and the mirror removed as the crowd filling the hall applauded.

“That wasn’t so bad.” Luis grinned at Naishe and kissed her again for the guests’ benefit.

_Just signing over the rest of my life._

Luis didn’t revel in the moment for long. He took up Naishe’s hand once more and dragged her into the masses at such an alarming speed she was sure she would trip on the ridiculous gown she was wearing. He seemed adamant about introducing the new Lady Mali-Kricco to every guest in the hall at once. A blur of names and faces that the Rivaini had no hope of remembering. Her husband would introduce her to whomever, allow them to take in her appearance and be off to the next person again. Naishe was so unenthusiastic that her new husband eventually gave up and left her by the food.

And what food there was. The tables were laden with enough nourishment to feed an army. Roasted pheasants stuffed with berries, honey-glazed deer with rosemary wrapped around the antlers, owl kebabs, pig snouts boiled in wine, nug tongue, blood sausage, towers of bacon in sweet barley syrup, hawk and potato stew, Ferelden quail pies, tea-smoked tomatoes and lamb, a great bloody bear heart on a platter that no one dared touch, simmered garlic and lime mussels the size of dinner plates, live lobsters in marmalade, whole tuna soaked in lemon juice, Val Royeaux leeks, stewed strawberries, pumpkins drizzled in butter, seared olive and mustard alligator, deep mushroom tartare, poached golden clams, vegetable soup, hot berry soup, potato soup, crab soup, black soup, spindleweed and saffron salad, sorrel fudge, grape and nutmeg loaves of bread, lichen bread, enough blue cheese to fill the Deep Roads, avocado gingerbread, roasted chestnuts, sugar biscuits, iced buns, candied cherries, mint pastries, crystallised pineapple, blackberry doughnuts, sugared almonds, jellies, syllabubs, ices, chocolates, mulled claret, port, rum, Antivan whisky, Orlesian red, mosswine from Orzammar, tea from Rivain and marshmallows from Nevarra. People were even licking the ice sculptures that were supposedly flavoured with rosewater.

Naishe gaped. She’d never seen this much food in her life and doubted she ever would again. Luis must have spent a fortune on that alone.

No one paid her much attention after Luis disappeared from her side. There was the odd glance, an appreciative grunt, but nothing more. She wished Clarissa was with her. The servant girl had been kind to her. No doubt she was serving one of the many guests somewhere in the throng. Naishe felt rather lonely. Not what one hopes to achieve at a wedding.

She approached one of the tables and cut herself a slice of some peculiar amber pie. It was only when she had bitten into it that she realised it was Arbor treacle, made from the sap of trees only found in the Arbor Wilds. The treacle hardened instantly in her mouth, gluing her teeth together. She tried gently prizing her lips apart with her fingers but was dangerously close to loosening her incisors.

Someone tapped Naishe on the shoulder and she reluctantly turned around.

An elf. He was beautiful. Slightly effeminate, and a coquettish grin sat easily on his face. His skin was like honey. His hair like spun gold. It was as though the sun had embraced every inch of him and left him to glow in the presence of mere mortals. At first glance, Naishe had thought his face was scarred. Scarlet tattoos sliced down his cheek and jaw, emphasising both. She could see muscle definition in his arms and legs where they weren’t covered by Antivan leather. He couldn’t be any older than her. Being an elf, he was a few inches shorter than Naishe, but she still managed to feel like he was looking down on her. The elf carried an aura of dominance without saying a word. Perhaps it was the presence of so many knives all over his person. He was the most intriguing and appealing thing in the room, at least in Naishe’s opinion, and his too by the way he looked so pleased with himself. Naishe realised that she’d been staring at him in silence for several moments and blushed. The elf wasn’t fazed. He clearly enjoyed being looked at.

“I don’t usually find my company silent for so long. Usually, they take it all in then have to comment on how stunning I am.”

Naishe tried to respond, “Nnnnnnnnnnnnn.”

The elf smirked, “I’ve never had _that_ effect on anyone before. You’re quite the exception, my dear.” He was eyeing her up and down, apparently enjoying the sight almost as much as his own reflection.

Naishe’s cheeks were heating up, but they weren’t going to get very far if she couldn’t speak so she pointed at her mouth and then the pie.

A silent “Ah” formed on his perfect lips and he picked up a goblet of clear liquid sat next to the pie, handing it to her.

Naishe forced the substance into the parts of her mouth that weren’t glued shut and felt the treacle melting away.

“Zevran Arainai.” He said it proudly with gusto, luxuriating in every syllable. He seemed to be perfectly happy to forget what had just happened.

“Right. Yes. Thank you…for coming…” the humiliated Naishe trailed off, setting the goblet down. She was more than willing to never mention the pie again.

“You must be Naishe.” The way he said her name. The Antivan drawl that sounded uncomfortable coming from Luis but inviting coming from Zevran.

“Yes. Luis’ wife,” she said, rather redundantly.

“May I say how beautiful you look. But this must be an everyday occurrence for you, yes?” He flashed another smile.

Naishe smiled too and looked at the floor, inwardly cursing the blood rushing to her face once more.

Zevran Arainai must be used to this reaction, for he pressed on, “How are you enjoying Antiva?”

“It’s…a change.” What was wrong with her? This was hardly the first attractive man she’d spoken to today.

“Fewer mountains. Ruder people. Every street corner filled with whores rather than Qunari.”

Her smile persisted, “Something like that.”

_Atta girl Naishe, you conversational connoisseur._

The elf tucked some of the glorious golden hair behind his ear. “I’ve visited Rivain once or twice on business. Extraordinary.”

_It must be a sin to roll your Rs like that…_

“The markets are much better than here. Better wine too. Although you can never seem to get a party going when certain people turn up.”

“The Qunari.” Naishe had a solemn expression on her face.

Zevran nodded, still smirking. “And here I was thinking I’d never complain about horny people around me.”

Naishe rolled her eyes, but the smile was back. “Terrible.”

“Did you visit many brothels when you were living in Rivain?”

The question came so abruptly that Naishe stumbled over her words. “What? Er-no. I haven’t…I’ve never…”

“A shame. I always had very refreshing sexual experiences whilst I was there.”

_Am I supposed to answer?_

“You don’t find many places where the women are so…headstrong. Or so skilled with rope.”

 _Right…_ Naishe knew vaguely what Zevran meant. Apart from the places the Qunari had infected, Rivain was matriarchal. It was rare to find a city where a man was in charge. This translated into every walk of life. Business, slave trade, agriculture, law enforcement and yes, pleasure houses were fields mostly dominated by women. As Naishe understood it, that wasn’t the case elsewhere in Thedas. It wasn’t uncommon for lust-addled bachelors to ask for Rivaini women when they frequented brothels, presumably because they carried the reputation of dominance.

“Rope?”

“Yes. Being bound. Tied up, you know.”

Was he testing her? Seeing how sweet and innocent she was?

“I’d be _more_ than happy to show you what I mean.”

She stared at Zevran. He had a lot of nerve.

He sniggered, “Perhaps not.”

“You mentioned business,” Naishe was determined to turn the conversation away from what had already provided a lot of distracting mental images. “What is it you do exactly? I assume you’re not a merchant…” she gestured to the number of daggers on display.

“No. I work for the Antivan Crows. A guild of assassins based in Antiva City. But I’m sure you must know all about us by now.”

 _An assassin?_ She thought he seemed a little…pretty to be a trained killer. Naishe hadn’t pegged Zevran as the hands-on type, unless you counted… _Dangerous waters Naishe._

“Yes. So I suppose you work with Ser Valisti?”

“Now and then. Claudio doesn’t like to be too hands on,” Zevran examined the nails on his left hand.

“I see…” Quite the circle Luis involved himself in. Naishe didn’t exactly feel an overwhelming sense of comfort that he surrounded himself with assassins.

“You have pretty eyes.”

_What?_

“What?”

Zevran shrugged and stepped closer to her.

“Eyes. Yours. They are very beautiful.”

She couldn’t help it. “That’s the best you’ve got?”

He barked a small laugh, “My dear, if I thought you were worthy of my best, you’d know about it.”

Well, that shut her up. Naishe wasn’t sure whether she should be insulted or amused. She opted for the latter.

“Is it in your contract to flirt with newlyweds?”

“Generally, yes.”

Naishe was saved from having to respond by a shout over her shoulder.

“Zev you cock come here and meet Elina! Fan _tas_ tic tits!”

Zevran gave her a slightly pained smile, “It appears I must leave you for now.” He was very good at this. The Antivan seemed genuinely disappointed to abandon her.

Finally plucking up the courage to grin, Naishe said, “It’s alright. I should go...”

Zevran smiled once more and took her hand in his, planting a kiss on it. “The pleasure was all mine Naishe, and please, go easy on the pie. I prefer you with your mouth open.”

He swaggered away, leaving Naishe entirely nonplussed. How was she meant to concentrate now? Zevran had been so enrapturing that Naishe had almost forgotten where she was. She blinked. The wedding came back into focus in an unwelcome wave of realisation. The ceremony. Luis, whom she had no intention of searching for. Trapped. She couldn’t shake the thought from her mind. Was she really about to spend the rest of her life with a man she’d only known for a few weeks? Would she be happy? Would Luis?

As she turned and watched the guests mingling, Naishe saw many examples of failed marriage. Widows wore rings on their index finger to indicate their partner’s demise. Some, she could see, had taken to wearing the obsolete wedding band as an earring, perhaps to mock the failed relationship. It was a peculiar convention that had never spread beyond Antiva. Most other nations found it a little callous. But Antivans proudly wore their hearts on their sleeves and had done for millennia.

A young Tevinter magister had joked about forcing his unfaithful second husband into a pit with nug rind strapped to his thighs. He’d then watched as his beloved was devoured by the family wyvern, Freckles. Thereafter, Naishe seemed to only hear tales of infidelity. A dwarf whose skin was so heavily tattooed that Naishe could barely make out her eyes had boasted openly in front of her own spouse of how she’d bedded the Arishok of Seheron, the King of Ferelden and no less than twelve of the royal court in Orlais. A drunken bard told her how his late wife, an accomplished archer, had shot him thrice for losing all their money to gambling debts.

There were, however, an equally abundant supply of happy relationships who’d come to witness Luis and Naishe join hands. A frail old woman got on her hands and knees to kiss the foot of Naishe’s dress, thanking her profusely for having chosen such a marvel of a man to be with until death. Her other half hovered nearby, honking like a horn into his handkerchief. Naishe wasn’t sure whether telling the truth, that she hadn’t chosen Luis at all and her being here was merely the result of her mother’s betrayal, or just thanking them would result in more tears. She picked the latter.

One man told her in great detail how he saved his true love from a camp of giants who planned to eat her. He only stopped describing their love-making when a passing servant mentioned that there were sausage rolls on the adjacent table.

Perhaps most bizarre of all was an elven woman dragging a huge cylindrical tank of water on wheels along with her. Within was her mermaid lover who looked rather bored. She only perked up when Naishe asked how the two of them had managed to consummate their affections. She had laughed, or what Naishe assumed must be laughter. A loud gurgling wail echoed from the water, followed by a wide grin that flaunted her pointed teeth.

“With difficulty,” was all the elf muttered, blushing furiously and leaving Naishe’s curiosity unsated.

Naishe drifted back towards the head table, wondering whether Zevran had ever bedded a merperson. He didn’t exactly give off the aura of a serial monogamist.

The newlywed cast her eyes over the swell of people, searching in vain for the elf. Maybe he’d left. It was perfectly possible. But there were so many guests crammed into the hall that she’d never know for sure.

Naishe felt constricted by the noise. Everyone laughing, trading stories or talking business. Luis, Claudio, Clarissa and some of the house servants. She knew _them_. But everyone else? Julietta, Flacutonus, Louis, Agatha, Duncan, Titus, Brakna, Tol-Mek, Warford Bec, Glen Ailes, Trent Esteves, Teyrn Halsey Hewlop, Mariah Fett, Rishley Duggan, Yves Montilyet, Jarek Kumar, Nazener the Proud, Feydis Cythrin, Filya Starck, Andronica Hawthorne, Jerdahn Tordas, Pyratiga Ferrow, Tacha Feddick, a man who smoked tobacco from a lute, a man who’d lost his legs in a bet, a man who ate only grapefruit, a grapefruit that ate only men, a mother of sixteen children, a mother of sixteen glasses of sherry, a mother of vengeance, a mother who’d turned all her kitchen staff into puffins, a half Tal-Vashoth, half dwarf, a cross-dressing witch, a frightened amnesiac, a mute singer and a bear.

Naishe lost track of the revelry before her. It was all so overwhelming. All she could focus on was the goblet before her, which kindly maidservants kept filled with spiced wine. Naishe knew, as she brought the cup to her lips, that she would never be truly happy with Luis. She didn’t want to live with him, eat with him, speak to him, or sleep with him. The final thought made her stomach turn. She’d have to wouldn’t she? Probably tonight. A man like Luis always got what he wanted. This menagerie of pomp and splendour was evidence enough.

Unwelcome tears stained Naishe’s cheeks. No one bothered to speak to her. Occasionally, she would see her new husband pointing up at her from the throng like she were a piece of fine art. The guest at hand would look her up and down, nod, then praise Luis for the acquisition of his exotic treasure. His plaything. The attending servants watched as the young Rivaini slowly drunk herself into a stupor, feeling immense pity for her predicament. They felt at least that the wine might make the ordeal easier to bear. They weren’t wrong.

She didn’t remember much of the evening after that. A dull haze fell over the sea of guests. One moment Naishe was sitting glumly in her chair, the next she was being loaded into a carriage like a sack of potatoes. A bulk of the guests waved them off with cheers and applause. Zevran watched on in silence.

*

_I would interview Zevran Arainai several years after this event. To my surprise he declined a drink, remarking on how it slowed his reflexes. But his attention quickly fixated itself on the girl behind me. His answers were always a little delayed, his mind clearly on other things. To be frank, I didn’t like him any more than (what I’d heard of) Luis. It is true that if it had not been for Arainai, I would never have met Isabela. But I’d always felt that his manner towards her was out of convenience rather than an active desire to help. Isabela rolled her eyes when I voiced these opinions. She says he’s got sharp wits and a good arse; “What more do you need in a man?”_

_I would never trust an assassin to have a heart, but I digress._

*

Clarissa was asked to carry Naishe from the carriage to her bedroom. She could smell the alcohol on her breath. Poor thing. Luis had instructed her to strip and bathe the girl so she would be ready for him. Clarissa followed her orders with shaking hands, folding up the dress which alone could have set her up with a brand new life if she’d had the nerve to steal it. Naishe followed her in a trance-like state to the bathtub, and let Clarissa scrub her clean.

As she was scraping non-existent dirt from under the Rivaini’s fingernails Clarissa said, “You’ll be okay.”

She wasn’t entirely sure what she was referring to. The fact that Naishe was about to lose her virginity, or so Clarissa assumed, to a man nearly three times her age. The commencement of a life she had had no say in. In theory, Clarissa at least could leave the household and seek work as a maidservant elsewhere. She’d never dream of it. Luis was held in such high esteem by nearby the entirety of Antivan nobility that she’d be hanged if her desertion was discovered. She could always return to Hercinia. There were countless ships coming and going from Rialto Bay. All Clarissa had to do was pick one. Naishe on the other hand...

Clarissa felt Naishe squeeze her hand. She didn’t meet her eyes, but the Rivaini held on to the older woman for a long while. Clarissa wished she could take Naishe far away from here. What kind of treacherous witch sold off her own daughter? She knew that she already cared for the girl far more deeply than her husband did. But before Clarissa knew it, she had left Naishe alone in her room, waiting for Luis.

Various factions of the Andrastean chantry preached that excessive drinking or the ingestion of _any_ inhibiting substances was a sin. It clouds your judgement and hinders your morals. You are not fully aware of the world and therefore cannot serve the Maker in such a state.

‘Vows made in wine could sooner not be made at all,’ so says some canticle.

It was just as well that Naishe was drunk. She lay on the bed in a dreary reverie when Luis entered, undressed, and approached her. His flopping penis soon hardened. In that facet of wifehood at least, Naishe could fulfil her duty. The large man climbed onto the feather mattress where his naked conquest lay. She was awake, but he could see she was staring out the window. No matter. It was a role she’d adapt to, he had faith in this. The others had.

Luis swung a hairy leg over Naishe’s hips. He had to marvel at her body. She was closer to the woman she’d become than the girl he’d met in Rivain already. Curvier than most women, with wide hips and a large bust. She was still rather thin. They had fed her well in the few weeks since she’d arrived, but she could stand to gain some more weight. It didn’t matter. She was beautiful, despite the absent expression. A small nose. A slender neck. Sleek black hair. Full lips. He leaned down to kiss them. Naishe didn’t resist, but she didn’t return the kiss either. This irked Luis a little.

“Come now, my princess. Look at me.”

She didn’t. Maybe by looking at the window she could escape by a sheer force of will.

“You are my wife now,” he placed two thick fingers on her chin and turned her head. “And you will look at me tonight.”

Naishe obeyed, staring blankly up at him. What else could she do?

He took her wrists in his hands and pinned them either side of her face and jerked himself inside her with a lurch. It hurt. Naishe bit her tongue in an effort not to cry out, but as Luis thrusted into her with growing vigour, she couldn’t hide her discomfort for long.

A servant passing by outside heard moans emanating from the bedroom. He assumed them to be product of pleasure, feigned or otherwise, and so Naishe’s pain went unheard. There were more tears in her eyes. At one point she may have even cried Clarissa’s name in desperation. Luis ignored her, or perhaps his own grunts masked her upset. It went on for several minutes. Luis’ heavy sweaty body rose and fell as he rutted on top of her. The young woman could barely move underneath him. When at last the final strangled groan came and Luis spilled his seed inside her, he rolled off, panting. Naishe choked back a sob. Never had she wanted more to be back in Rivain, arguing with her mother.

*

_Isabela was quick to reassure me that she did not adhere to the painful tradition (her words not mine) of abstaining from sex before marriage. She said the idea was, and I quote, “worse than Aveline in a negligee.” Prior to coming to Antiva, she’d been with a couple of people. A young lad she was friends with, whether it was Dario or someone else I’m unsure. They weren’t romantically involved, merely curious. The second was an elven woman passing through the city. I don’t think Isabela even knew her name, but, once again, she was curious._

_I’m glad she can make light of what happened with Luis. Time heals most wounds, and she hides her scars well._

*

A friendly hand woke her the next morning. Clarissa’s silver eyes blinked down at the Rivaini. For a moment, she could only think about those eyes. They came with reassurance, care and even affection. Then the moment was over. Memories of the wedding, of Luis stuck to Naishe like a shroud. She felt a dull throbbing in her head.

“How do you feel?”

Naishe’s mouth was very dry and she felt rather nauseous, “I’ve had better days.” Her eyes fell on the two glasses Clarissa was carrying on a tray. One was filled with water, the other some unfamiliar brown gloop.

Clarissa smiled and, to Naishe’s dismay, handed her the strange brown liquid.

“You want me to drink mud?” she asked, holding the glass up to the light pouring in from the window to identify it.

Clarissa grinned, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Your husband requested that you take this each time you…lay together.”

Naishe understood. Her mother had concocted similar ‘remedies’ for women who weren’t ready to be mothers. Clearly Luis had no interest in having children. This didn’t bother Naishe in the slightest. She was only nineteen, and no part of her wanted kids. Women in Rivain had assured her, oblivious to her irritation, that she would grow out of this.

“It’ll taste a little bitter,” Clarissa said as Naishe took the glass from her.

She eyed the sludge for a second, then knocked the glass back. It was very viscous, oozing slowly down the glass into her mouth. There was no odour, but Naishe nearly gagged when she tasted it. It was like rotting ginger and charcoal.

Clarissa patted her shoulder sympathetically. “Deathroot,” she said by way of explanation, “and wormwood.”

“Nnnnugh,” replied Naishe. She swallowed the rest, just barely, and grabbed the cup of water. It was a mercy on her taste buds.

“Are you…al-”

“I think I need a bath,” Naishe looked down at herself, then at Clarissa, “do you think I need a bath? Or maybe a hot poker to get the taste out of my mouth…”

Clarissa smiled. If Naishe didn’t want to talk about last night, that was her business. She set the tray on the bed and stood. “As you wish.”

She left Naishe to soak in the bath and returned to the bed to change the sheets. Blood had spoiled the white satin. Clarissa felt a knot in her throat as she threw them in a heap. She’d help Naishe, Clarissa decided. She’d help make everything easier for her if she was able. The girl didn’t deserve this.


	13. Normality

The first few weeks were a dull repetition of the same activities. Naishe would rise, have breakfast with Luis, and then spend an hour or two with Thir gently criticising her pronunciation and teaching her new phrases. “Piss off”, “shove it up your arse” and “you look like the back end of a cow” were some of her favourites, although Thir tried to steer the conversation away when it got to that point.

In the afternoons, Naishe was free to do as she pleased. Although this was initially fun, the charm wore off fairly quickly. Luis was often working in his study or away on business, and Clarissa and the other servants were usually attending to various tasks. This left Naishe alone and increasingly lonely. She spent a lot of time in Luis’ huge library, flicking through adventure books and biographies of great travellers.

To her dismay, she was not allowed to leave the house without an escort. The guards heavily encouraged her to stay within the grounds of the estate. With enough haranguing, Naishe could sometimes convince a couple of them to go with her so she could explore Antiva City. But they were never further than a few metres from her. People would part to allow her a path and it meant no one ever interacted with her.

It frustrated Naishe to no end that she couldn’t have a normal interaction with anyone. Apart from Clarissa, all of the servants treated her with the same formal politeness that they supplied to Luis. She could never get more than a few words out of them that wasn’t in some way related to something she wanted.

As for Luis, it seemed that the second the ring was on her finger, his interest had vastly diminished. On the rare occasions that he wasn’t working, they would spend time together. But the man who’d been so keen to learn about her past a few weeks earlier seemed to have completely vanished. Their conversation was basic and unsubstantial. The weather. What they’d like for dinner. A few times Naishe had suggested that they take a trip, since it was evident that she could go nowhere unattended. Luis was always say the same thing. “Soon, my princess. Just as soon as I’ve finalised this contract.” And that would be that. Protests would get Naishe nowhere.

When they _did_ travel, it was only to the house of Luis’ colleagues. He was keen to show off his new wife as much as possible, and put on airs of intimacy and affection towards her when they had an audience. Luis' fellows would marvel appreciatively at her like she was a prize pony strutting around an enclosure. Some would even speak to her, albeit briefly. Mostly she was regarded, complimented and ignored. It was a tiresome ritual that she despised. Any complaint fell on deaf ears.

Every so often, Naishe would be expected to perform her ‘wifely duty’. It would happen the way it did on the night of their wedding. Luis would enter her room, disrobe, and go about his business. Naishe, who couldn’t even pretend to feel any desire, who consent so much as to let the whole ordeal be over quickly. She sensed Luis’ impatience at her lacklustre attitude, but he didn’t push the matter. Naishe suspected that Luis had other means of satisfaction in the bedroom.

I hope you, dear reader, will forgive me for skimming the infancy of the Mali-Kricco marriage. Isabela was quite insistent that nothing of consequence occurred in the first few months of her domestic bliss.

*

“Uggghhhhhh. Piss off!” Something soft hit the door with a dull thud.

“Open up Naishe! You have to get ready.” A familiar voice called from outside.

“Too early!” Naishe groaned into her pillow.

“It’s past midday!” Clarissa heaved against the door and managed to wedge it open just enough to slip through. She saw immediately why she’d had so much trouble getting in. Naishe had built a barricade of chairs and her chest of drawers which normally sat by the windows.

Clarissa smirked. “You pulled that thing all the way over here?”

Naishe merely grunted in affirmation.

“You can’t lie there _all_ day you know.”

“Try and stop me.” She said defiantly, and buried her face further into the tangle of sheets.

The servant girl tiptoed to the bed, grasped the ends of the sheets in both hands and flung them in the air, pulling them away from Naishe despite her tugging. She was pleasantly surprised.

“Did you decide undergarments were beneath you this time?”

A disgruntled and completely naked Naishe slowly sat up and rubbed her eyes. The Rivaini made quite a sight. Her hair was a tousled mess, there was drool on her chin and sleep in her eyes. It was rather lovely, in Clarissa’s mind, to see her like this. The afternoon sun pierced her curtains allowing warm light to fall on the woman’s figure.

“My eyes are up here.” Naishe was smirking, having finally roused herself enough from her stupor.

Clarissa blinked. _Was it that obvious?_

Naishe just watched her.

“Get dressed. You’re going to dinner.” Clarissa threw a silvery gown at the bed that she’d personally picked out. She knew it would complement Naishe’s skin. She also knew it would put her assets on display; something Luis insisted on.

Rather than put the dress on, Naishe swung her legs off the bed, stood, and stretched her arms. This pointedly drew her the other woman’s attention to her breasts.

Clarissa knew she was being teased and, with some difficulty, stared at her face.

“You just bathed and went straight to bed, didn’t you?”

“Mmhmm.” Naishe grinned and mercifully picked up the dress.

Clarissa helped her step into it and fastened up the back.

When she was having her hair brushed in front of a large polished mirror, Naishe asked, “So where am I going today?”

“A dinner party with some nobles you husband is friendly with. The Montford’s…No…It’s something like that. They sounded Orlesian anyway.”

“Sounds divine.” Naishe remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“If you’re complaining about dining on the finest food in Antiva with rich aristocrats I’ll happily trade with you. I get to manure the gardens while you’re away.” Clarissa grumbled, running her fingers through her hair.

“Deal. Then I can go back to bed.”

Clarissa’s grin turned into a grimace as she presented something else to the woman in front of her. “He also wants you to wear…”

Naishe turned and looked at what was in Clarissa’s hand. “No. Absolutely not.”

It was a hefty midnight blue headdress made of velvet, embossed with silver gems that glittered like stars. It looked ridiculous.

“Before you say any-”

“I’m not wearing that.”

“It’s meant to be very _in_ at the moment.”

“Where?”

“Val Royeaux. Your husband thought it would be-”

Naishe’s nose wrinkled. “Not fucking likely.”

“Naishe…” Clarissa met her eyes in the mirror’s reflection. She looked a little pleading.

Grumbling, Naishe submitted to the other woman’s advances. When the accursed thing was in position, she snorted.

“It’s not _that_ bad.”

“It looks like I have a croissant on my head.” Naishe mused, smirking. “I know they’re Orlesian but this is pushing it.”

Clarissa sighed as Naishe shook her hair free of the headdress. In her opinion, she preferred the Rivaini’s hair free of any restraints. It shimmered in the sunlight like a raven’s wings. Nonetheless…

“You know Luis won’t approve if you don’t wear it.”

“Sure he will. He’s always staring at my breasts anyway,” she looked down at the cleavage on display. “It probably helps if his wife doesn’t look like a side-dish when he’d trying to talk business.”

Clarissa couldn’t help the little voice in her head that said Naishe looked perfectly edible in her eyes.

Naishe twirled. “Good?”

“Good.”

“Then I suppose I’m off to dinner,” she sighed, standing.

To Clarissa’s surprise, Naishe took her hand, pulled her forward and place a quick kiss on her cheek. She was still blushing when Naishe had left the room.

*

The journey lasted hours. She, Luis and Claudio Valisti were crammed into a carriage pulled by two chestnut horses until the sun had begun to set. It explained why they’d had to leave so early.

She asked about their hosts. Not, as Clarissa had assumed, Orlesian but an Antivan family: the House of Montilyet. She learnt that they were old friends and occasional business partners. Luis made a point of saying they weren’t involved with the Antivan Crows in any professional sense, and that Naishe should avoid that particular conversation topic. At this, she merely shrugged. Naishe knew she hadn’t been invited to dinner for her brains or to discuss anything that would require even the most fleetingly intellectually stimulating conversation. No. She was there as an ornament to be looked at. A vanity piece for Luis. Another one of those evenings.

The pleasant early afternoon sun turned gradually to a grim drizzle, then a heavy rain, and finally a roaring storm. Each clap of thunder rocked the carriage and made it impossible for anyone to be heard. Naishe suggested, yelling over the batter of rain, that they all get out and swim the rest of the way. As they travelled downhill, they all felt the spray of sea water bombarding the carriage. Any longer and the water would permeate the wood and soak them all.

But eventually the torment ended. Jon the carriage driver, an unusually tall dwarf with a peg leg, hobbled to them to open the carriage door. Naishe had assumed they would have to wade to their hosts’ home through the water spewing from the sky, but was pleasantly surprised. The Montilyet’s were clearly prepared for such tempestuous weather. The path that lead to their front door was raised up on stilts with deep indentations on either side for the water to run and a roof overhead.

They were greeted at an impressive porch of stone pillars by a servant dressed in a bottle green doublet and hose.

The Montilyets’ home décor was significantly more tasteful than Luis’ home. It was cosier too. Naishe preferred it vastly to the place she’d left. There were chinse armchairs and tall mahogany bookshelves. Large candle brackets and sweeping patterned rugs. There was a grand marble fireplace along the right hand wall. Above it was a tapestry that matched Luis’ family tree, although it was significantly smaller. Naishe wondered whether Luis had poached this design for his own ends.

Usually, they were greeted at the door by the man of the house and any family he possessed. This time however, a chirpy little woman with white hair plaited into two erect spires which twisted like Qunari horns ushered them quickly into a dining room. There to greet them was a long rectangular table laden with plates and cutlery and several pairs of eyes.

Naishe counted five children at the table and an austere looking woman sitting at the far end. The kids blinked at the new arrivals, but said nothing. Naishe moved uncomfortably, glancing sideways at Luis for an explanation.

“Lord Montilyet asks that you commence the meal without him as he will be a little late,” the white-haired woman chirped.

“Just like Yves to invite me to dinner and then not show up…” Luis said reproachfully.

All in all, Naishe found it rather anticlimactic, not that that was a particularly alien feeling in the presence of Luis.

“So, Antoine. Still want to be a knight? It looks like you’ve got good strong arms.”

Luis’ attempt to breach the deafening silence fell flat. The boy, Antoine seemed far more interested in picking his nose or else was too young to understand that he’d just been addressed. In fact, as Naishe’s eyes travelled over each of the children sitting opposite them, they all seemed incredibly young. Far too young to be attending a dinner with their father’s business partner. The eldest hadn’t even reached puberty. Naishe suddenly felt very self-conscious of the fact that her breasts were practically hanging out. She shrank down in her seat and prayed for someone to do something that would ease the tension in the room.

Mercifully, the servants soon arrived, bringing platters of fish and baskets of bread in and setting them on the table. Claudio had just suggested that they start without their host when another man strode into the room, a little out of breath.

“Ah! I thought I smelled wet dog.” Luis’ gaze was fixed on the door.

The man who’d so captured her husband’s attention was corpulent and middle aged with a red nose and the same caramel skin shared by most Antivan’s. His dark brown hair was almost waist length and greying. Like many Antivan men, he had effeminate features. The heart-shaped face. The clean-shaven jaw. The flowing violet robes embellished with silver. He made quite a presence.

“Late to you _own_ dinner party, you old bastard.” Luis had strode over to the newly arrived host and slapped him on the back.

“I only just regained consciousness after those bottles of red from Minrathous you sent me.”

Naishe’s ears were ringing from the raucous and slightly ridiculous laughter that echoed from the two men for many minutes. It contrasted to the awkward silence that had preceded the new attendant.

Luis turned to the table and cleared his throat, “May I present Yves of House Montilyet. You remember his from the wedding? His family own the finest trade fleet between Rialto Bay and Orlais.” Apparently it was no faux pas of etiquette in Antiva for the host to be introduced by his guest in his own household. Naishe couldn’t help noticing, as Luis joshed with Yves, that his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Clearly there were several places her husband would rather be.

At this, Naishe heard a short bark of laughter to her left. No one else seemed to have paid it any attention. It was Claudio. Naishe gave him a questioning look.

He leaned in and whispered to her, “It’s common knowledge that the Montilyets have lost their trade ships and any respectability in Antiva. The only places they can safely show their faces are the Orlesian courts. Most nobles know about how the business dried up but they still have a little influence left. Probably because Yves knows who someone high up is sleeping with. He plays The Game well, so I’m told. You’d never know of the trouble he was in if you spoke to him because he keeps his cards hidden.”

“What’s The G-”

“Allow me to introduce my wife. Yves, _this_ is Naishe.”

Luis had escorted Yves over to where she was sitting. At Claudio’s prompt, a sharp jab from his elbow, she rose to greet them.

“Ahh…the famous Rivaini beauty I’ve been hearing so much about. I can see why he wants to keep you around.” He had rolled the ‘R’ on ‘Rivain’ for an excessively long time, but at least Luis seemed amused. This thought was cut short by Yves pressing a firm kiss on Naishe’s lips. She stepped back, looking rather alarmed. This only encouraged further laughter.

“Don’t look so scared, beloved.”

In an effort to make a friendly grin, Yves managed more of a leer. “I thought Rivaini’s were known for their boldness” he said jovially. “Although with a figure like that, perhaps you don’t have to do anything to give someone the right impression, yes?”

Was he implying that she was stupid? Naishe opened her mouth to reply, but at a warning look from Luis, closed it again and merely smiled.

“Actually I’ve been meaning to have a word with you about that.” Yves’ tone had changed from amiable to business-like.

He was pulling Luis away from the table so they’d have privacy. Naishe strained her ears to listen as she lowered herself back into her seat.

“Another shipment was taken. It’s the raiders again, I’m _sure_ of it.”

“You’re being paranoid again Yves. You can’t seriously think pirates would want to steal a crate of apricots and tea leaves.”

“More wine?”

Naishe jumped. Claudio filled her glass, smirking.

“Pirates..?” She’d heard about them. Of course she had. You’d be hard pressed to find anyone either side of the Bay that hadn’t heard about the comings and goings of the Raiders of the Waking Sea. Naishe had seen them strut about the docks, cat-calling the women and riling each other up with booze or bragging about their recent exploits. They were most prominent in Llomerryn. Naishe had visited the island with her mother. If the rules of propriety were lax in Dairsmuid, they were entirely absent in Llomerryn. The perfect place for lawbreakers to flourish. It was a breeding ground for wild rumours. Reports of an elven child ripping out the heart of a high dragon with tweezers or a druffalo chieftain engaging in diplomatic debate were second nature to the folk that lived there. Naishe had witnessed more than one tavern brawl over a broken teacup. The closest thing to law enforcement was a particularly enthusiastic but senile exiled knight from Jader who kept the deathroot plantations in check.

It was a safe haven for pirates. They all held themselves in grand esteem. Claims darted around that the raiders of the east were the most dastardly, the most conniving and, to Naishe’s amusement, the most handsome. Needless to say these claims spawned only from the pirates’ own lips.

Contrary to any of the stories she’d read, Naishe barely ever saw peg legs or parrots. Eye patches were rarer still, much to her disappointment. She’d noted the tell-tale traits of some cut-throats over the years. Those from Rivain were tattooed up to the eyeballs with piercings to boot. They wore bright silks that exposed their biceps and chests. They were seldom seen without boots of leather from their cousins across the Bay.

Pirates of Ferelden were more muted in every sense. Their garments never strayed beyond greys and browns, and they were usually clad in heavy armour. Harder to kill with the bows and daggers that those from the east preferred, but the thick mail seemed to weigh down on their bodies and temperament alike. They were more likely to be found quietly nursing pints of mead in the secluded corners of taverns than dancing on the docks with their raucous co-mates. Naishe had never extracted many elaborate anecdotes from them.

A crew that called themselves ‘The White Brand’ sported nothing but chain loin cloths and scimitars.

Another group made up of Tal-Vashoth were famed for cutting off the last two fingers on their right hand. A ship made up only of mages who wore long ruby red robes that glittered to give off the impression that they were permanently ablaze. An extravagance Naishe smirked at until one of them ran shrieking into the ocean to put out their flames. They were new.

She’d noted with some interest that the presence of a woman amongst any crew was at best a novelty. Never had she seen more than a couple amidst the wave of men, whatever their race. Perhaps women just weren’t drawn to that life the same way men were. That puzzled Naishe. The only exception she had personally witnessed had been an all-women crew, ‘Diana’s Kiss’. They’d been docked for a week in the capital and made quite the impression. Anyone who said the crew were even partially feminine in the typical sense would have been lying through their teeth. They were all heavily built with muscles bulging from every inch of them. Even the elves, so often small and slender, were unusually bulky. The captain had been a fearsome dwarf with a thick red beard and her weapon of choice: a pick axe.

Yes. Naishe knew of pirates. They were often met with rolling eyes and stern glances from those land-bound folk. Yves Montilyet was not alone in his annoyance for all they did. But there was something…attractive about them. Certainly not in the literal sense; the majority sported scurvy-ridden gums and gruesome scars with even more gruesome stories attached to them.

But it was the sense of freedom. The ability to go wherever they wind took them. She saw it in their wicked eyes. There was nothing holding them to one spot. Naishe had felt this same feeling when she’d come across elven aravels on trips with her mother. They were nomads. Some outcasts. But they weren’t burdened by the structure of a city. People like that got to see as much of the world as they wanted.

‘Diana’s Kiss’ had supposedly sailed from somewhere west of the Sundered Sea when she’d seen them. They had spoken in a language Naishe couldn’t understand and feasted on raw fish from the ocean. Perhaps they were trying to make a point. To Naishe’s immense concern, each of the crew members had only one breast. She’d learn later that they did this as a rite of passage to themselves. That made her stomach turn. Maybe that life wasn’t for her after all…

She raised an eyebrow at Claudio. “They’ve been having trouble with pirates?”

He snorted. “You can say that again. Some rag-tag group from Rivain keep attacking the few boats Montilyet still has. Or so he claims. If you ask me, he can only afford the sort of cheap cargo ship that sinks three minutes after leaving. I wouldn’t lose any sleep over it. Yves is nothing if not a drama queen.”

Naishe grinned and took the glass he’d just refilled.

The evening progressed like many Naishe had experienced whilst in Antiva: lots of wine and smiling at the host’s bad jokes. Claudio ensured her glass was never empty, and she was content to sit back and watch Luis and Yves complain about the “ludicrous” price of cheese from the Dales.

The Montilyet children had been mostly quiet, save for the youngest who whined about wanting to taste the ale, only to be hushed by her older sister. That latter had surprised Naishe by asking questions about the political unrest in Rivain regarding Dairsmuid’s Circle. She couldn’t have been older than ten. To exacerbate matters, one of the boys had his eyes glued to Naishe’s face. She’d smiled politely and tried to turn her attention elsewhere. The Montilyet’s unsettled her slightly, but not as much as the meal. Boiled squid in a balsamic and tomato sauce. Despite living by a port harbour all her life, Naishe didn’t like seafood much. Or at least, nothing with this many legs. Luis knew this and had given her a slightly sympathetic look across the table as she chewed on a tentacle. An Orlesian delicacy, so they said.

“…begging me to take him to see Ferelden. But I know the minute I agree he’ll start listing off cities from every corner of Thedas. If the business wasn’t so…I haven’t the time to take holidays.”

“Or coin.” Claudio said under his breath.

“I’d love to travel. There’s nothing in the world that I’d rather do.” Naishe wasn’t sure what made her say it. Maybe it was the wine.

Yves cleared his throat awkwardly. Her words had lead the Montilyet children to stare at her. Was it awe, or incredulity? Clearly guests didn’t often speak out of turn at the dinner table.

“The family legacy after all Laurien. Very important,” Yves said with no pretence at removing the condescension from his voice.

Naishe was amused that Yves was lecturing a boy who looked like he’d only just grasped the art of eating with cutlery about the value of finding your correct place in society, and even more amused by the open-mouthed confusion that Laurien responded with.

His older sister elbowed him and hissed, “Chew your food.”

“Jo’s a little more grounded, thank the Maker. Already set her sights on the University of Orlais. Perhaps she’ll impart some wisdom into your wife’s…ambitions.”

Naishe felt sure Yves had been about to say “delusions”.

Luis chuckled. “I certainly hope so. I’d hate for Naishe to be somewhere where I couldn’t see her.”

Not quite the rescue she’d hoped for. Naishe smiled tightly.

“I see why…” Yves said with a rather seedy glance at her.

“Maye she’ll join those vultures on the Waking Sea.”

Everyone turned their heads to the opposite end of the table. It was the first time Naishe had heard François Montilyet speak. She’d been so silent that everyone had quite forgotten she was there. Only her eyes were colder than her voice. They were a steely azurite, and adorned with heavy black eyeshadow. Her cheekbones were severe and her skin pale, which contrasted wildly to the warm tanned faces of her family. It was as though someone had tried to sculpt the trademark Montilyet traits onto her face, but scuffed the finer details. Her jawline was sharper, her nose longer. She had once been beautiful, Naishe could see it, but the years had been unkind. François looked as though she was in permanent mourning of someone who had just died. Clearly Yves’ wife didn’t think very highly of Luis’.

“Now now, François. Let’s not insult our guests. It was Luis, you know, who brought us this delicious-”

“Give her plenty of gossip to take back to her outlaw friends, Yves. Now she knows that they’ve sucked you dry for all you’re worth.” His wife snapped, her thick Orlesian accent quavering across the room.

Naishe couldn’t understand it. What had she done to offend this woman? Had it been because she’d approved of Laurien’s wanderlust? Did her shoes not match her dress? Naishe knew Orlesian’s were famed for how particular they were about fashion.

Most of the children were watching their stepmother rant with expressions of surprise and fear. The oldest, presumably Jo, was turning her food over in her plate with her fork. She looked a little bored.

“Dear…”

Suddenly, François was on her feet. “Dites à votre visiteur généreuse pour prendre sa salope Rivaini retourner d'où elle vient” and with that, she stomped out the room.

There was silence for a few moments. Naishe didn’t know any Orlesian, but guessed the lady of the house hadn’t been showering her with compliments.

Yves certainly had understood his wife’s words and said, “Forgive her. She’s prone to headaches in this hot weather.” Thunder boomed outside.

Nothing greatly exciting happened for the rest of the evening. After dinner, they retired to an impressive golden-furnished drawing room where the men drank whiskey and discussed a wyvern sighting in Seleny. As soon as the conversation turned to business, Naishe was gently shooed away from the men. This left her in the awkward position of being left with the kids. Only Jo actually spoke to her.

“Do you play chess?”

Naishe turned. The eldest Montilyet child was blinking up at her. “Er…Not really. I’ve been learning but I’m not very good.”

The girl looked disappointed, but recovered quickly, “What is Rivain like? I’ve never been.”

She wondered whether she should lie, “It’s alright. The houses aren’t as pretty as they are here.”

Jo had an expression that suggested what Naishe was saying was the most interesting thing in the world. The Rivaini was a little embarrassed.

“The docks are the busiest areas. People from all over pass through the harbours. Humans, elves, dwarves…”

“Qunari?”

“Uh..yes.” Naishe hadn’t really expected someone so young to know about them, but she supposed Rivain couldn’t be the only place they lurked. “I was never very fond of them personally.”

“Why?”

“They’re…very strict. They have a certain way of living. Anyone that joins them has to live like that or be cast out. There’s no liberty.” Why was she saying this? It wasn’t a particularly pleasant topic for her to discuss.

Jo must have twigged, but as she opened her mouth to respond, Naishe heard her name being barked.

“If there’s another Blight in my lifetime I’ll eat my hat. Ah yes! Naishe, my princess.” Luis planted a wet kiss on her cheek. He reeked of something strong and bitter, presumably the whiskey.

“Gherkin?” Yves offered her a tray of walnuts, gherkins and dates, hiccupping as he did so.

“No, thank you Yves,” Naishe said, shaking her head and smiling apologetically. “I couldn’t eat another thing. That squid was so…”

“Salty,” Claudio interrupted. “I swear Yves, you do know those things live _in_ the sea already. You don’t have to add more salt to them. I thought my tongue was going to shrivel.”

“No worse than that appalling whiskey you served us the last time we were invited to your shack,” Luis chimed in, simultaneously honking with laughter at Claudio’s expense and patting Naishe’s backside firmly with a hand that still smelled of fish.

“Have a drink then. I insist.” As Yves said this, he pushed a tumbler of whiskey into Naishe’s hand before she could say anything.

“Are you trying to get my wife drunk?”

“Perish the thought…”

“So says his first wife.”

“A toast! To this delectable creature before me. Natasha! No…Naishe!” Yves hiccupped, raising his glass to the Rivaini.

The two other men followed suit and drained their glasses.

“Such a pity you have to take her away so soon, Luis. I suppose I couldn’t persuade you to leave her.”

She assumed Yves was joking, but Naishe would still rather sink into the ground than hear any more of this conversation. This worsened when a bony hand slid its way down her back.

“Hands off, you horny toad. You have your _own_ wife if you want to get your cock wet. Sorry children.”

Claudio snorted.

Naishe blushed.

Yves’ lip curled.

“Another toast then to our formidable host.” Claudio refilled their glasses and nodded to Yves.

 _Good._ Naishe thought. This must mean they were leaving soon.

“To Yves and his-”

“Little pickle,” Naishe finished, tipping back the drink and placing her glass on the tray of gherkins. It was thick and fiery. It burned her throat as she swallowed, but she got it down.

Luis and Claudio tittered and drank. Yves smiled too, but it came a little late.

*

Soon after that, they were hurrying to the carriage, Naishe kicking off her heels to walk properly and Luis saying a friendly goodbye to the host. The rain hadn’t lessened. It had threatened to wash the carriage away and Jon with it.

Each of the Montilyets who hadn’t in some way been insulted that night waved as they left, but they were swallowed up in the gloom of the night within seconds.

Once the trio were safely inside the carriage, they all sighed; from relief, from fatigue, from being glad to be out of the rain.

“That went well.” Claudio was smirking. “Up until you offended Madame Montilyet by existing.”

“I didn’t _do_ anything!” Naishe protested. “Did I?”

“Relax, my darling. François was just sulking about her new husband.”

_That makes two of us._

“She thought she was marrying into a noble and highly respected House. Clearly Ms Boudercherie should have researched them a little more thoroughly. I suppose she thought Montilyet would be her gateway to Orlesian nobility.”

Naishe wasn’t convinced. It had been _her_ that François had glared so strongly at. She’d called Naishe a criminal. A pirate.

 _It probably_ is _difficult to be polite with such a large rod stuck up her arse._

Naishe was silent for the remainder of the journey, looking out the window at the storm unloading its wrath. The yelling wind had pushed the still waters to choppy currents that morphed into mountains of angry waves. They crashed and plunged into each other. Foam rose and fell. Gulls screamed above the swell of the ocean. It was vast. Unrestricted. Dangerous. Rainwater was swallowed up by the unquenchable thirst of the ocean.

Naishe felt oddly calm.

*

“Soldier. At ease. Commence the undressing of your senior commander.” Naishe raised her arms in the air, smiling innocently.

Clarissa rolled her eyes but complied. She’d opened the door to find a wet and grumbling Luis and Naishe. Luis had stomped off to have a bath and Naishe had gone to her own bedroom with her. Claudio took the carriage to his home.

“I’m not above slapping you, you know.”

“Are servants allowed to do that?” Naishe regretted her words the moment she said them, but luckily Clarissa smiled.

“How were your gracious hosts?” Clarissa peeled the sopping wet dress over Naishe’s head, again finding it difficult to employ the willpower not to look down.

“One of them tried to grope my arse. And the wife yelled at me.”

“Better than usual then.”

Naishe grinned.

Clarissa folded the dress away, picked up Naishe’s discarded shoes and headed for the door.

“Clarissa. Wait.” She needed to talk to someone. It couldn’t be Luis. She didn’t feel comfortable discussing anything of substance with him. Naishe wasn’t even sure what it was that was bothering her so much.

“Yes?” She had turned to look at the Rivaini. Her heartbeat was racing.

“There was a girl. One of the kids. She asked about home.”

“You mean Rivain,” she said, walking back over and sitting beside her on the bed. Fortunately for Clarissa, Naishe had pulled the sheets up over her chest and was resting on her elbows.

She nodded, “It’s not that I miss it. Well I do. It’s just…I don’t know. There was nothing for me there. I don’t know what my life would have become if I’d stayed,” and the words started tumbling out. “My mother didn’t care in the end. Why else would she have just given me away? She just stopped…living. She stopped _being_.”

Clarissa listened.

“It was the Qunari. They changed her. They made her like them. She used to have fun. _We_ used to have fun. She’d take me on trips to steal coin and see new places. They took it all away from her. They took my mother away.”

Clarissa waited, unsure if Naishe was finished and if so whether she expected a response. When several moments had passed without another word, she asked timidly, “Do you miss her?”

Naishe was quiet for a while, dripping onto the bed and staring at the floor. “I miss what she used to be like. But she isn’t that person any more. Hari’s gone.” She said the last words a little bitterly. She wasn’t angry. She wasn’t even sad. No tears had sprung and her voice hadn’t cracked. Naishe found she was just empty. She was starting to feel less and less for the woman who so resembled the mother she loved.

The woman beside her placed a warm hand on her shoulder, rubbing it.

“I don’t care,” she said abruptly. “For her, I mean. She just became so different. I don’t care anymore.”

It was a tragic thing to hear for Clarissa. Her own mother had loved her dearly, and she in return. They’d spent many days picking wild flowers together in the meadows of Hercinia’s countryside. She’d taught her how to tell the safe mushrooms from the poisonous ones. How to deliver the calf of a cow that lived on their farm. They’d gone riding on a couple of retired stallions until their thighs ached. Clarissa missed her greatly. She’d died six years ago; the victim of a nasty infection to her lungs which made it difficult for her to breathe. Clarissa had cried for weeks. But she’d always counted herself lucky, particularly now. She’d always known, right until the end, that her mother loved her. Naishe didn’t seem to share that luxury.

“I’m sorry Naishe…”

“Don’t be.”

What was supposed to be said in this situation? Would telling Naishe she was right make anything better? Clarissa concentrated on the ground, struggling to form words. “Maybe…Maybe you’ll both be happier this way…Fresh starts…”

Naishe shrugged, something changing in her eyes. “Good riddance. If Hari wants to throw her life away she can.”

Curiosity got the better of Clarissa before she could stop herself, “Did you ever consider joining her? In the Qun.”

Thankfully, Naishe didn’t seem to take offence at the question. She smirked, “Maybe once. But it wasn’t for me. Still isn’t. Indentured servitude isn’t my kink.”

Clarissa smiled, “You’re getting good with your lessons.”

“My King’s Tongue you mean? I hope so. Soon I’ll be able to pass for a charming Ferelden noble.” As Naishe said this, she sunk onto her pillows.

“A pretty one too.”

“Well, I’ll leave that up to you,” Naishe replied, winking as she did so.

Blushing again. Clarissa stood, hiding her face. Her second attempt to walk to the door went unchallenged, to her disappointment. She turned in the doorway, giving the Rivaini a final glance. Naishe was already snoring quietly. She was still so young. And she’d had to grow up too fast. Clarissa could picture her in another life careening around the world doing whatever she liked. Maker help anyone who got in her way.

“Sleep well,” Clarissa whispered, closing the door behind her.   
  


*

_There is a painting that hangs in a room in Skyhold. The very place that the Dread Wolf led his supposed comrades to in darker times. It shows a woman engaged in combat with a sword-wielding octopus. There are a lot of swords. She has her own in one hand and a chest of treasure under her arm. A ship captain’s hat lays to one side and the woman is resolutely trouser-less. Isabela didn’t have this painting commissioned. She didn’t even know of its existence until she received a letter from the Viscount of Kirkwall, although at the time I believe he was just her faithful friend. It, along with several other portraits of various nobles and lowlifes, was to be taken down, so the room might be used for more practical purposes. Varric flat out refused to have a soul touch Isabela’s painting. He said it served as a reminder that the good and trustworthy could be found in the most unlikely of places._

_Isabela was feared by a great many people, but loved by a great deal more. I tell you this, dear reader, because I am one of the latter. In fact, I would have married her had she let me. But this is not my tale._

_*_

_“Are you getting sentimental again?”_

_“Wouldn’t dream of it,” I lay my quill to rest on the page for a moment. “Do you want to continue? We’ve covered a lot today.”_

_Isabela made a triumphant groan, “Maker’s balls finally!” Her chair grated back and she stood, stretching her arms. “I feel like I’ve been sat in that chair for days.”_

_I watched her finish the rest of her ale before I said, “Did you make up that stuff about the bear?”_

_She smiled lazily, “You should know by now that pirates are well known for their honesty.”_

_“Point taken.”_

_“Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hiyam bet me her wooden leg that I can’t beat her in diamondback. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that smug tart win.”_


	14. Backstabber

About a week later, Luis suggested that Naishe follow the vines behind his home. He said it would take her to the fruit orchards.

Naishe didn’t have anything better to do and decided to go. Dodging the patrolling guards, she dragged Clarissa along too, despite her protests.

“You realise I might get fired if they notice I’m missing.”

Naishe simply grinned and pulled the other woman’s wrist. “Luis is out for the day and the house is spotless.”

Clarissa was only pretending to protest. She was more concerned with her quickening heartbeat than missing her daily chores. She walked along the gravel path whilst Naishe trod through the soft grass on her left.

“Ahh…I think the sun is actually better on this side of the bay.” Naishe spread her arms and let the rays beat down on her. Her eyes were closed and her smile was one of bliss.

Clarissa could feel the corners of her lips tugging upwards. “The view’s certainly better.”

She looked radiant in the sunlight. The glow seemed to cling to her. Become part of her.

Clarissa couldn’t tear her eyes away. 

“Thanks for coming with me,” she said after a while. “I like the company.”

“It’s nice to explore new places with someone tagging along, I suppose.”

“I mean I like _your_ company.”

“Oh.” A tiny rush of adrenaline spread through Clarissa’s body. “That’s kind of you to say,” Maker this shouldn’t be that difficult. “And I yours.”

Naishe smirked, “The sun must be reeeally strong. I think your cheeks are burning.”

They wandered to the orchards the rest of the way in a comfortable silence. Well, comfortable for Naishe. Clarissa was staring intently at the ground wishing she could sink into it. A few people were dotted around the bushes. Naishe’s eyes widened when she saw what they were picking. Raspberries the size of apples were sprouting everywhere.

“Can we eat them?”

“Of course,” Clarissa said. “Try one. They’re exquisite.” She plucked one from its stem and offered it to her.

Naishe took the raspberry eagerly and bit into it. It was tart and juicy. If Naishe was going to fall in love in Antiva, this fruit might be the cause. She groaned with joy.

The noise caused Clarissa’s cheeks to redden a little. She picked a berry for herself and bit into it.

The orchard was mostly quiet, but every so often Naishe would take another bite and moan in appreciation. She ate two more before she was done. “I might reconsider that whole afterlife thing if these are going to be there…”

Clarissa giggled, “Not a big believer in the Maker then?”

Naishe shrugged, “Haven’t got much reason to believe there’s someone up there who’s got my back.”

The Marcher herself had always followed a fairly common interpretation of Andrastean faith. She was fairly certain that feeling affectionate towards her boss’ wife was frowned upon. Well, she’d be fine so long as she didn’t act-

“You’ve got a little…” Naishe rubbed her thumb against the corner of Clarissa’s mouth, wiping away some excess juice.

Clarissa might have been able to keep her mind straight had Naishe not then sucked the juice from her finger. Something something resisting temptation…

Naishe was less phased by her actions. She supposed as a married woman that such behaviour was inappropriate, but since she’d had little say in the engagement, the Rivaini didn’t allow any guilt to enter her mind.

Clarissa suggested they walk into the nearby town. It wasn’t far from the orchard. The golden drake of Antiva flew proudly on the gates of Marzamenti. The town was all white walls and red tiled rooves. Unlike the opulence of egotistical nobility in Antiva City, Marzamenti seemed to house the everymen. The clothes were a little less ostentatious. The people a little less in love with themselves. It reminded Naishe a bit of Dairsmuid.

“There’s an amphitheatre close by,” Clarissa said. “They sometimes play music there.”

“Lead the way,” Naishe replied. She got the odd second glance as they walked through town, presumably due to the finery she was dressed in. They wouldn’t forget her in a hurry.

When they reached the amphitheatre, Clarissa furrowed her brow, “Must be someone well-known playing…” There were hundreds of people gathered. Definitely more than the Marcher had been expecting.

A beating drum started to sound, and the crowd became more excited. They whooped and yelled and clapped their hands. The two women kept being jostled by the rowdier folk.

“Maybe we should come back another time…” Clarissa looked at the crowd doubtfully.

“Come on! I want to see what’s going on.” Naishe grabbed Clarissa’s hand and pulled her into the throng. “It might be fun!”

Clarissa sighed to herself but resigned herself to be dragged through all the people.

Some protested as they forced their way to the front, but Naishe was not deterred. She pushed and elbowed her way forward until they were right on the edge of the steps.

“I don’t think they’re here to watch music…” Clarissa eyed the roaring crowd doubtfully.

“Well it’s got to be something good,” Naishe grinned, “This many people wouldn’t come otherwise.”

“What?!” Clarissa yelled over the noise.

“I said, there wouldn’t be this many people if it was something boring!”

“Snoring?!”

“No-!”

But another roar sounded. This one was that of a beast. The crowd hushed excitedly. A pair of tinny trumpets blasted a man dashed into the centre of the amphitheatre.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I hope you’re excited! Because we’ve got a thrilling show for you today!”

The people cheered and yelled.

“Be warned! What you are about to see is not for the faint-hearted! Lives may be lost! But a champion will be crowned!”

More cheering.

“Now no more dawdling! Let’s get this show on the road!”

The applause was so loud that Naishe wondered whether the noise could be heard in the city.

“A woman that needs no introduction! Belinda “The Bludgeon” Balrag!”

A black-haired dwarf strode into the centre holding a fanged mace proudly in the air. She was large and bursting with muscles. Scars from her eyebrows to her knuckles. She wore thick plate armour and carried a square shield. ‘The Bludgeon’ didn’t look like a woman to be messed with.

“Aaaaand her opponent! Daisy!”

Naishe was doubtful that someone as vicious-looking as Belinda could have a worthy rival. When Daisy entered the arena, the Rivaini gaped.

Daisy was a bear. Huge and covered in matted brown fur. She was the size of the carriage that had brought Naishe to her new home. A mighty beast. She growled as she approached the announcer and Belinda, baring teeth the size of swords.

“Is it just me,” Naishe leaned in close to Clarissa’s ear so she could hear over the noise, “or is everything bigger in Marzamenti?”

Clarissa smirked, “I think Daisy’s been eating those raspberries.”

“Belinda! Are you ready!?”

Belinda gave the announcer a death glare and slid her visor over her face.

“Daisy! Are you ready!?”

It was difficult to tell whether Daisy roared in answer to the question or because she was, well, a bear.

“Very well! There will be only one victor! Begin!” The announcer scurried backwards as the dwarf and bear approached one another.

Daisy’s lips were dripping with hot saliva. She let out another growl.

The Bludgeon didn’t look very impressed. She lifted her mace above her head and charged at the bear screaming. She brought it down hard on Daisy but the weapon merely seemed to get lost in her fur.

Daisy roared and swiped at the dwarf with her paw, sending the warrior flying into the air.

The crowd collectively winced when Belinda landed on her head.

The helmet must have taken most of the impact, or dwarfs were as sturdy as their reputation suggested, because she recovered quickly. Her mace had fallen beside Daisy so all she had was a shield.

Daisy snapped her teeth and lumbered towards the dwarf.

“Send the dwarf back to the underworld!” cried one of the spectators.

The bear swiped her paw again, narrowly missing her target with her claws.

Naishe felt Clarissa flinch beside her and squeezed her hand.

Another swipe. This one nicked the side of The Bludgeon’s chest plate.

The dwarf sidestepped away from the attacks and held her shied in front of her torso.

Daisy was not discouraged by this pathetic form of protection. With another roar, she lurched forward and sunk her teeth into the shield. Her jaw was so large that she consumed the entire thing.

Belinda yelled and staggered backwards.

The crowd gasped.

Daisy had not only taken the dwarf’s shield, but her hand.

There was a spurt of blood onto the ground. Belinda was clutching her jagged stump with her remaining hand, cursing loudly.

“Andraste’s tits…” Naishe looked sideways at Clarissa and saw that her eyes were clenched shut.

The great bear spat the shield onto the ground. It had probably been a skilfully crafted piece of dwarven mastery. Now it was a mangled pile of splinters.

Somehow, Belinda got back to her feet. Daisy’s attack had left her mace lying there free for the taking. She sprinted towards it, gritting her teeth through the agony of her amputation.

Daisy twigged what she was after and started galumphing towards the mace as well. She opened her bloody mouth as she neared the dwarf.

Belinda grabbed the handle of the mace by the skin of her teeth and careered forwards with her own momentum out of the reach of Daisy. Her opponent bit at thin air and turned a furious glance towards her.

The bear reared onto her back legs. Naishe didn’t think she’d ever seen anything so vast. Upright, she was the height of three men.

The Bludgeon started backing up.

The people were screaming in anticipation.

Daisy launched off her back legs and hurtled towards the dwarf with a snarl.

To everyone’s surprise, Belinda ran forward holding her mace directly above her.

The bear crashed down on top of her.

Naishe thought that the weight of the bear must surely have killed the dwarf.

But Daisy made a strangled cry and rolled onto her side, winded. The mace had hit her stomach with so much force that she actually seemed to moan.

Belinda scrabbled at the ground and clawed into the dirt, inching herself out from under the bear. She rounded Daisy and approached her head.

The beast was still wheezing. Naishe could just make out the sounds of it pining.

There was a frozen second between stand off and attack, where the onlookers quietened and Belinda spat blood onto the ground. She raised her mace over her head once more, and brought it down onto Daisy’s nose.

The bear howled in pain and made feeble attempts to get back to her feet. Her nose was a bloody mess.

It wasn’t enough for The Bludgeon. With her remaining hand, she dropped the mace and plunged her fingers into one of Daisy’s eyes. Daisy jerked and whimpered, but the dwarf didn’t relent until she ripped the eye from its socket. She held it high in the air, victorious.

The announcer came dashing back into the centre and held up his arms. “I present to you all our first champion! Belinda ‘The Bludgeon’ Balrag! Slayer of the mighty bear!”

There was tumultuous applause from the audience. People clapped their hands and stomped their feet and yelled insulting remarks at the defeated.

Belinda cheered for herself and spat at Daisy’s head, then picked up her mace and began trudging out of the arena. Several beefy men and women started approaching Daisy to drag her out of the ring. But as they neared the furry giant they heard a loud snorting of fury.

Belinda was shaking her remaining fist in triumph as she left. Her bellows of victory were so loud that she didn’t hear as a great beast galloped after her. She didn’t even smell the stench of blood as Daisy opened her jaw as wide as it would go.

The crowd’s whooping faded away instantly. They watched in horror as Daisy swallowed the dwarf whole, armour and all.

The bear’s handlers were white-faced as they gingerly crept closer to return her to her cage.

Naishe felt exhilarated from the battle, if a little bad for Belinda. Clarissa’s eyes were still closed so she leaned in and said, “Shall we go?”

The other woman nodded vigorously, still refusing to open her eyes.

Whilst the next battle was being announced, Naishe led Clarissa back through the crowd until they were a good distance from the amphitheatre.

“Are you alright?”

Clarissa finally opened her eyes. She looked very uncomfortable. “Yes yes fine. Just…I don’t like violence…” She stared at the ground.

Naishe felt terrible. She’d dragged her in to watch that bloodbath. “Shit. Sorry. I didn’t know.”

“It’s fine, really,” Clarissa said decisively, finally meeting Naishe’s gaze. “Hopefully it will actually be music next time…”

The Rivaini grimaced and jerked her head towards the gate to leave Livorno. “Shall we go? And maybe get a snack on the way?”

The hint of a smile played on Clarissa’s face. “I like the sound of that.”

They left Marzamenti and went by way of the raspberry bushes again. Naishe gorged herself on the fruit but Clarissa didn’t have any appetite. The rich red juice dripping down Naishe’s chin reminded her too much of Belinda’s bloody stump. On their walk back to the city, they spotted three people up ahead. A handsome young elf with a slight hunchback, a doddery old man leaning heavily on a stick, and an indifferent-looking girl.

“…might’ve just dropped it! Check for anything shiny.”

“No use. Magpies’ probably ‘ad it.”

“Shit shit shit! Eryn will lynch me if she finds out!” The elf ran his hand through his hair in distress.

Naishe and Clarissa approached them, questioning looks on their faces.

“Lost something?”

The elf looked at Naishe and shook his head, “Oh no no serah, thank you no. Everything’s fine…Well not everything. Things could be better. A lot better. But I’m sure it’ll all turn out OK. Maybe. I hope. Shit. Sorry serah.” He seemed to be having a mental battle with himself, “It’s nothing. Well not nothing. I don’t want to waste your time with my-”

“Today, Jerrick,” the indifferent-looking girl said. She seemed more interested in her fingernails than the elf’s troubles.

“Right,” Jerrick muttered apologetically, “sorry…It’s my ring. My engagement ring. I had it. I know I had it! But the damned thing must’ve slipped off.”

“Boy’s convinced it’s somewhere ‘round ‘ere,” croaked the old man.

Naishe and Clarissa looked at each other, then the latter said, “Do you want help looking for it? We’re not in any hurry.”

Jerrick’s eyes widened a little and he clutched his hands together, “Would you? Really serah that would be very helpful! You don’t have to though! You seem like important women.”

Naishe smiled and nodded to her right, “I’ll go this way.”

The elf made to speak again but the girl intervened, “I swear if you say one more word I’ll tell Eryn about the ring _and_ the gambling.”

“I’ll go with the ‘vaini girl,” the older man hobbled after Naishe. “Not so good at walkin’ no more and I can’t listen to em two bicker.”

Naishe let him take her arm and they started scouring the ground.

Clarissa went with the distressed Jerrick. The other girl just sat on the ground and waited.

“Boy’s ‘opeless. Always losin’ stuff. ‘e’d forget ‘is ‘ead if it weren’t stuck on.”

Naishe grinned, “I hope the ring isn’t some cherish family heirloom.”

The Ferelden snorted, “Fat chance! Prob’ly just a piece ‘o tin painted gold. ‘e can’t afford nuffin fancy.” He jabbed a finger at Naishe’s wedding ring. “Now ‘at’s quality. Must be a rich fella wot given yer that.”

The Rivaini nodded, “Pretty sure he owns half of Antiva.”

“Then ‘e won’t miss it…”

“What do you-?”

Before Naishe could finish her sentence, the old man twisted her arm behind her back and clocked her over the side of the face with his stick. He kicked her in the back sending Naishe headfirst into the ground.

“What the fuck!?”

He flipped her over easily and straddled her thighs so she couldn’t move her legs. “Don’t fight back or I’ll ‘it you again.”

Naishe wasn’t strong enough to force him off her even if she wanted to. She glowered up at him as he freed her coin purse from her belt and slid the ring off her finger. She could hear the yelps of Clarissa a guessed the same must be happening to her.

Once the old man had what he wanted, he got to his feet and sprinted the direction they had come with ease. The limping must have just been a ploy to appear nonthreatening.

“Little shits…” Naishe clambered up, feeling a sting of pain on her face where she’d been hit. She could see the elf and the other girl running back towards Marzamenti. The elf’s hunchback had apparently been a dagger he used to threaten Clarissa.

The two woman jogged to meet each other. Clarissa didn’t same harmed, just shaken.

“Are you OK?”

Naishe nodded, frowning. “I’ll live. You?”

“Just winded. Your face…”

The Rivaini prodded her cheek gingerly. The flesh was sensitive and painful to the touch. “It’s fine. Nothing broken. He took my gold…and my ring.”

Clarissa still looked concerned for Naishe’s injury, “They got my coin too. Luckily I didn’t have much on me. Just a few silver.”

“Brilliant,” Naishe sighed. She was annoyed with herself, “I should have punched him or something.”

The Marcher shook her head, “He had a weapon and you didn’t. He would’ve hurt you if he had.”

“He _did_ hurt me,” Naishe pointed at her face.

“You know what I mean.”

Naishe sighed again. She’d been in the odd fight before. But never with any weapons.

“I’m sorry. I’m supposed to look after you. This never would’ve happened if-”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Naishe rubbed the other woman’s shoulder. “I made you come. And it’s not like you’re hiding a sword under than skirt. Or are you…” She cast her eyes down at her crotch and Clarissa gave her a shove.

“Come on. Let’s try and get home in one piece.”

*

They returned through the back entrance that led to the servant’s quarters. Clarissa said she would tell Luis the robbery was all her fault but Naishe refused. She made Clarissa promise she wouldn’t say she’d left the house at all then kissed her on the cheek and headed for her bedroom.

Naishe was halfway up the stairs when she heard her named called.

“Come here, my princess. We want to see you!”

“Uhhh…In a minute! I just want to change.”

“That can wait! Come here, please.”

Trying as much as possible to shield her face from view, Naishe went back down the stairs to greet her husband. She pretended to fiddle with a strand of hair so her cheek was obscured.

Luis was joined by Claudio Valisti and a few other Crows. Naishe guessed they must have been making schemes with the other assassins. One of the Crows was familiar to Naishe. The golden hair and striking tattoos of that elf that had flirted with her at her wedding were unmistakable. He looked at her with a hungry gaze, his eyes eventually resting on her cheek.

“Hello…darling,” Naishe pecked Luis on the cheek and smiled at Claudio. “Always a pleasure, Claudio.”

“And to you as well Naishe. I so bore of Luis’ company when you are not around.”

Luis snorted, “She can start leading the meetings and I’ll retire to Tevinter.”

The assassins laughed politely.

“And what have you been up to, sweetheart?”

“Oh you know…” Naishe looked at her feet. “This and that. I went to those orchards you mentioned.”

“Ah yes! Delicious raspberries aren’t they? Just wait until it’s blackberry season…”

“Something in your eye, sweetheart?” Claudio was looking at the hand covering her cheek inquisitively.

“Uhh…” Naishe shook her head and tried to make stroking her hair over her face look nonchalant. She failed.

Luis reached a finger out and pulled her hair out of her eyes, revealing the blossoming bruise. “What the-What happened to you?”

“IIIII…tripped. Hit my face.”

“It looks like something hit you,” Luis narrowed his eyes. “Or someone…”

She batted his hand away, “It’s nothing really. I can barely feel it.” Naishe thought she saw the golden-haired elf smirk out of the corner of her eye.

“Naishe,” Claudio said seriously, “Did someone attack you?”

The look Luis was giving her was actually a little intimidating. Was he angry that someone else had gotten their hands on her? Or was it annoyance that her pretty face had been ruined slightly.

Naishe decided lying wasn’t going to get her very far this time. “Robbers. They caught me off guard. I was walking back from the orchards and one of them hit me.” She shrugged, “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t have much gold on me.”

“You were walking home alone?” Another flash of anger sparked in Luis’ eyes.

“Well, yes. I was only going fruit picking.” She wasn’t about to risk Clarissa being punished.

“Why were no guards with you?”

“Theeeeeyyy were busy. I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You must _never_ leave the house without an escort. Ever.” Luis shook his head, “No one lays a hand on my wife.”

Naishe struggled to refrain from rolling her eyes, “That’s really not necessary. It wasn’t serious. It could’ve happened anywhere.”

“And it’s my job to make sure it doesn’t happen. Not anywhere. You understand?” Luis placed a hand on her shoulder. His anger was melting away as quickly has it had come. His tone had changed to that of a father reassuring his daughter, which made Naishe uncomfortable, given the circumstances.

Claudio piped up again, “What did the robbers look like? I can have my people look for them.”

The Rivaini shrugged again, “Two men and a woman. I wouldn’t waste your time with them. Like I said, they didn’t take much.”

“There’s a reputation at stake. We can’t have people thinking they can rob Lady Mali-Kricco and get away with it.”

Naishe chose to ignore this statement. She wondered whether Claudio knew how condescending he sounded. A thought that had been bubbling in her mind came to the surface. “Maybe I should learn some self-defence.”

There was a pause, then Luis broke into laughter.

Claudio even tittered a little, as though the idea were really so unthinkable.

“Unnecessary, my love.” Luis jerked his head at the study door indicating for the assassins go inside. His interest in Naishe’s suggestion was ebbing away quickly. “A personal guard will be more than enough. And I’d hate to risk a pretty thing like you getting injured.”

Naishe rolled her eyes and huffed.

Luis kissed her cheek and spun on his heel. The Antivan Crows followed him into the study, the tattooed elf casting a fleeting glance in her direction.

Another idea formed in her head. She waited at the top of the stairs for about half an hour until she heard the sounds of footsteps again. The Crows were leaving but she wanted to catch one of them before they went.

“Hey!” She jogged down the stairs and headed for the front door. The elven one was last to leave. What was him name? Zebulen? Zevron?

He stopped in the doorway and turned to meet her.

Zevran! That was it.

“Lady Mali-Kricco.” He took her hand in his and kissed it, “It has been far too long since I have had the pleasure of your company. A tragedy indeed, no?”

What had it been? A few weeks? The Rivaini smiled, “Naishe. Please.”

On the other side of the door, Claudio cleared his throat.

“Sorry serah, I just had a favour to ask. About my…protection. Do you mind?”

Claudio gave her an all too knowing look, then shrugged and said, “As you wish.”

Zevran’s smirk had grown, if such a thing was possible. He waited until the front door had closed, then brushed a finger against her cheek. “Well, well, aren’t you full of surprises…”

The Rivaini pushed his hand away from her face gently, “Not what I had in mind.”

Zevran looked only marginally disappointed.

“I have a favour to ask…”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, “And I suppose it doesn’t involve skinny dipping.”

“Not quite.” It was Naishe’s turn to smirk, “I want you to teach me how to fight.”

Zevran’s other eyebrow rose, “Ahh. So you were serious about that?”

Naishe nodded, “I know how to throw a punch but I’m useless with anything else.” Then, as an afterthought, “A personal guard’s all very well but you can’t deny it’d be useful to know some moves.”

“Perhaps. And you think I should be the one to train you?”

“You’re an assassin. I assume you have to be a skilled fighter to be one of the Antivan Crows.”

Zevran inspected his hands fondly, “Well, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the finest rogue in the land. I can slit the throats of ten men in under five seconds.”

“Then you’d be perfect for the job. I want to learn to fight. Properly.”

The elf smirked, “And what would your husband think?”

Naishe shrugged nonchalantly, “He doesn’t need to know.”

“Ahhhhh…So it’s a secret, yes?”

The Rivaini made something between a nod and a shake of her head.

“I see…” His eyes sparkling with intrigue. “And how would you explain me coming to visit you for hours at a time?”

“You’re the finest rogue in the land. Be discreet.”

Zevran chuckled, “Touché.” He watched her for a moment before he said, “I do not think I can do this for you. The life of a Crow is a busy one. I may be sent on a mission at any time and be gone indefinitely.” He flashed his teeth, “I’ve never been one to turn down coin.”

Naishe persisted, “I’ll pay you.”

“With what gold?”

In answer, she merely gestured around them to the mansion they were stood inside. “I just married the richest man in Antiva. I think I’ll manage. If you’re sent away I can just practice what you’ve already taught me alone. Maybe one of the servants will help me.”

“Hmmm…” Zevran rested a finger on his lip as though deep in thought, “The thought of you playing with yourself is inviting…”

“Inviting enough to say yes?”

He bit his bottom lip, “Supposing you get hurt? I don’t think your husband would be very impressed.”

“I guess you’ll have to take my word for it that I’m a fast learner.”

He liked her persistence, and had never been known to turn down a beautiful woman in the past, particularly if gold was concerned. “You’ve convinced me. I shall come here every week and we’ll train.”

“Twice a week.”

Zevran sniggered, “Very well. Twice a week. Two gold pieces per lesson.”

Naishe raised her eyebrows, “That’s extortionate.”

He flashed another smile and gestured around them as she had, “You just married the richest man in Antiva. And I’m the greatest fighter in Antiva. I’m worth every penny.”

“We’ll see about that…” Naishe held out her hand.

Zevran took it and winked, “A pleasure doing business with you. I look forward to our next meeting.”

“If you’re half as good at fighting as you think you are, so do I.” Naishe smiled and watched him go.


	15. Cutthroat

“Thrust. Thrust! Don’t jerk it like that.”

“Ever considered taking your own advice?” Naishe growled.

“I have it on good authority that I don’t need to.”

“Bullshit.” A word Naishe had recently learned from Thir, and one of her favourites. She returned to her fighting stance, then stabbed her knife forwards at the air.

“Almost.” Zevran turned her wrist ever so slightly. “You might be able to give someone a papercut now,” he winked.

Naishe scowled at him, “Would you like this back or shall I stick it someplace dark?”

“I’m just saying, I mastered that move in a day.”

“You were learning to fight before you were learning to walk so shut it,” she jabbed again.

The assassin batted his eyelashes innocently, “Do I detect some irritation in my student?”

“You’ll detect a dagger in your eye pretty soon.”

Zevran moved so fast that he was almost a blur. He disarmed Naishe with a blow to the arm and pinned her against the wall with the knife to her throat. His ever-present smile was a smug one.

It had been a few months since Zevran had agreed to train Naishe. As promised, he’d sneak into the courtyard when he was sure Luis was away and drill her on various duelling techniques. Naishe had convinced Luis’ guards that the walled off courtyard was safe from intruders and they left her alone. After all, Zevran was technically invited so he wasn’t quite an intruder.

As expected, Naishe was pretty abysmal at the start. She would swipe clumsily at thin air and could always be disarmed in under a second. She wasn’t very strong and Zevran could overpower her easily. But, true to her word, Naishe was a quick learner. Her reflexes were good so she was able to pick up dodging fairly swiftly. Sometimes, when Zevran let her win one of their sparring matches, she would get cocky and overconfident. The elf usually remedied this by sending her sprawling onto her face.

Any time spent with Zevran was never free of innuendos. Their banter had never reached anything more than playful flirting, yet.

Naishe smirked, “Always pinning me down. A girl could get the wrong idea.”

“Oh? And what might that be?”

The Rivaini shifted her foot forwards and started sliding it up Zevran’s leg, never breaking eye contact. “Ulterior motives.”

“Mmm?” The assassin’s eyes dropped to her leg and flicked up again, “I’m afraid you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Gladly.” Naishe carefully poked the knife away from her neck then brought her hands to his hips. She gazed at him through heavily lidded eyes and bit her bottom lip a little.

“What are you-”

She kissed him before he could get another word out. Zevran’s lips were softer than she’d expected. His body relaxed almost immediately and he started to return the kiss. Clearly she wasn’t the first woman to spring it on him.

When she heard the clatter of his daggers onto the ground and felt his hands on her, Naishe brought her knee up hard into his crotch. He wheezed and doubled over and she used this opportunity to shove him onto his back.

The Rivani straddled his hips triumphantly and said, “Tut tut. Don’t you always say never lose focus?”

A determined glint flashed in Zevran’s eye and, when he’d finished wheezing, he flipped her onto her back so fast she barely realised. He pressed her wrists again the ground and smiled. “Well, well. Got a few tricks up your sleeve as well?”

“You have pretty eyes.”

Zevran chuckled, “Fool me once.”

Naishe shrugged, “Worth a shot.” Her captor made to get up but she said, “Awww why spoil the fun?”

“You would preferred I remained here?”

“Maybe. The view’s better.”

They looked at each other in silence. An onlooker might have seen a predator and their prey, but it was difficult to tell which was which.

It was as though every beat of her heart was a reminder to Naishe of the perpetual dissatisfaction she felt in this place. It was always the same. Breakfast with Luis. Speaking lessons with Thir. More often than not Luis would be away most of the day on business. She was left to her own devices, within the confines of the house. Plain repetition. Boredom. 

She stared into his hazelnut eyes daring him to act. And act he did.

Zevran slammed his lips against hers and Naishe reciprocated. Their kisses weren’t sweet and loving but burning with fire. All lips and teeth. Naishe barely had time to react when he pressed his tongue to her lips, delving into her mouth when she’d granted access. Their kisses were desperate and wild, and tasted like rainwater. An elemental force as raw as the one that tore the sky apart above them. They were so hard it felt like their lips were bruising.

Eventually the assassin released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Soft breathy moans slipped from Naishe’s lips when he kissed her, each one only goading him on and on. Her scent was flooding his senses, driving him crazy.

He dipped his head down to kiss her jaw and her neck. Soft warm flesh heaving beneath his touch. Both of their breaths getting heavier and heavier. At some point Naishe wrapped one of her legs around his waist, but she didn’t remember doing it. Her reactions were automatic. Her body knew exactly what to do when Zevran kissed her. It was like all the passion that was missing in her loveless marriage was finally being set free. Exploding within the two of them. The clouds overhead had begun a downpour but neither of them noticed. The world fell away.

*

_As I mentioned before, I’ve never been able to bring myself to fully trust Zevran Arainai. Perhaps I am being paranoid. The world is full of far greater threats than the assassin. Darkspawn, archdemons, treacherous politicians, Tevinter magisters, elven gods…I suppose one knife-wielding rogue with dubious morals could be worse. Isabela just told me to read back what I’ve just written. I see the irony. She also said to get back to the steamy bits. Aye aye Captain._

*

Zevran felt himself hardening against Naishe. She brought her teeth to his pointed ear and he grew even harder. Despite every inch of his body screaming for him to continue, Zevran pulled away.

Naishe thought he might be giving himself space so he could unfasten his trousers and her eyes darted there eagerly.

“I think this might be the wrong time to get carried away, no?” His golden hair was starting to stick to his skin from the rain.

Naishe leaned up on her elbows and sighed, “Spoilsport.”

Seeing the gorgeous woman lying before him glistening in rainwater, the elf nearly succumbed again to his instincts and kissed her once more. But this was neither the time nor the place. He’d already been at the estate for over an hour. Luis would likely be home soon and wouldn’t be best pleased to find his wife between the legs of another man.

“Another time, tesoro.” His smirk faltered ever so slightly, “I think it is best that your husband not know of this…”

“We’re already hiding things from him. What’s one more secret?”

He helped Naishe to her feet and she embraced him in another kiss. The rain was so heavy they were both already soaked to their skins. Eventually, Zevran managed to extract himself from her arms and made his departure, but not without making suggestive comments about what they might do in their next training session.

Naishe didn’t like when their training came to an end. It only served as a reminder that he was free to leave this place while she wasn’t. But she was in high spirits nonetheless, and ravenous with hunger.

Thick grey clouds were heaving over the sky, drenching the world. It meant they would be eating soon. Luis always liked to eat after a trip, particularly if it was raining.

Naishe was heading to the kitchen to grab a snack when the front door banged open. Men’s voices filled the vestibule before the owners came into view.

“…comes running back with his tail between his legs, shrieking about darkspawn in the chantry when all of a sudden-Naishe?” Luis had been leading his comrades out of the rain and spotted her at once. His brows knitted together in a stern frown.

“ _That’s_ Naishe?”

“I thought he said she was beautiful.”

“He told _me_ she looked like Asha Campana…”

“Andraste’s hairy little cunt Luis, did you just wed some gutter-born whore?” A boisterous Ferelden scoffed.

These were the kind of people Luis wanted her to sound like? Noble indeed…Naishe looked down at herself. There was dirt on clothes from where Zevran had pinned her. The plain white garments she’d worn to practice were meant for sleeping in, and they were soaked through. Her hair was a wet frizzy mess. Not suitable for a high society dinner perhaps, but certainly not deserving of the insults Luis’ cronies were slinging her way. Naishe didn’t think the men looked much better. Their clothes were also damp and many of them looked steaming drunk. Their faces were red and one of them carried the overwhelming odour of fish. Their words were cruel, but she knew better than to react. All of them were laughing or throwing in snide comments except for Luis.

Her husband’s hard expression broke suddenly and he joined in the laughter, louder than the rest. “I think Naishe is having us on.”

Naishe raised an eyebrow.

“A little joke to amuse us, gentlemen,” he added. Luis wiped non-existent tears from his eyes and walked over to Naishe laying his hand against her lower back. She could feel his nails start to dig in. “Be a good girl and put on the dress I picked. Rivaini silk I’m told. You’ll look like a proper woman. I’m sure our friends will approve.”

Their “friends” certainly _did_ like this notion. There were whoops and wolf-whistles. Rivaini silk was known to be very sheer. It left little to the imagination.

Naishe was biting her tongue hard to avoid the bitter retort desperately trying to get out. Luis gave her a little push towards the stairs and turned back to his guests as though nothing had happened. He and his troupe swaggered, snorted and sneered their way past Naishe to the parlour.

A string of Rivaini insults were not heard by anyone else in the mansion besides the girl who uttered them as she stomped up the stairs. She would have cursed the heavens too had she believed that anything occupied them.

 _Who the_ fuck _does he think he is? What gives him the right to treat me that way? I’m not his property. I’m not his pet. The skeezy little shit stain wouldn’t know respect if it fucked him up the arse. What did I do to deserve this troll for a husband? Why does he even want me when I_ clearly _don’t make him happy?_

Her good mood had entirely vanished. The only consolation she found was in knowing that Luis was too much of a self-centred prick to question why she’d been outside in the first place.

Naishe passed Hamaal the servant boy in the corridor. He was carrying a stack of perfectly folded bedsheets.

He glanced at her nervously, about to say something.

“What are you looking at?” Naishe snapped, prompting Hamaal to jump and spill the sheets onto the floor.

Naishe would’ve felt bad but she was too angry to worry about him now. She stomped into her room and saw the dress Luis had been talking about. He must have sent someone to deliver it before he’d even arrived. It was almost entirely transparent. Long layers of thin magenta silk made to be worn loosely on hot days. Outsiders often wrongly perceived the Rivaini to be immodest and even vulgar for fashioning such garments. The reality was that most did not see flesh as something that needed to be hidden. Their summers were long and their temperament non-judgemental for the most part. It was only when rich men wished to leer at a young women that the clothing became uncomfortable. She might as well have returned naked. Naishe briefly considered this, but decided it would hardly work in her favour.

Zevran had let her borrow some old grubby breeches for training. They came with a laughably large codpiece that suggested more about the elf’s ego than his manhood. The trousers looked utterly ridiculous on Naishe in comparison to the satin gowns and velveteen skirts she normally wore in Antiva.

A smirk crept across Naishe’s face, “You want a ‘proper woman’?” The dress he had intended for her was so flimsy that she managed to stuff it down the front of her breeches so the codpiece bulged even more. The nightgown that she sometimes slept in resembled a man’s shirt if she tucked it in to the trousers.

She left her hair in the tangled mess that it was and strode back to the parlour.

The door swung open. Naishe was framed in the doorway, proudly displaying her crotch. She bowed with a flourish, even going so far as to throw a wink at one of the gawping faces. It was difficult to tell whether they were impressed by her temerity to defy Luis as she strode into the room or horrified at the potential consequences of her actions. Maybe the last girl wasn’t so reckless. The men were shooting each other questioning looks. Perhaps they thought Luis had orchestrated this. Luis himself was oddly quiet, looking Naishe up and down with an unreadable gaze.

“What’s the matter darling?” Naishe said sweetly, “Aren’t I everything you wanted?”

She was expecting him to yell. To be embarrassed. Anything. Not just this silence.

There was a little titter from one of the other men, but warning looks silenced him quickly.

After what seemed like an eternity, Luis blinked and walked over to Naishe. He circled her until she had his back to him.

Naishe didn’t like him being behind her. It felt like he was in control.

He placed both hands on her shoulders, making Naishe think he was about to snap her neck. “Well gentlemen? Do you like what you see?”

A few of them shifted uncomfortably in their seats.

“Come now! What do you think? Is she everything I told you she’d be? A beautiful flower plucked from the shores of Rivain? A girl every man would kill for?”

Naishe could feel his breath on her neck and shivered.

“Are you mute? Speak!”

One of them eventually cleared his throat, “Dazzling. You made a fine choice.”

“A fine choice!” barked Luis. “Anyone else?”

“Stunning.”

“Every man will die from envy.”

There were a few more murmurs of ascent, no one daring to mention the elephant in the room.

“You hear that Naishe?” Luis leaned down to speak in her ear, “Every man would _die_. Why don’t you show them how beautiful you are? See if any of them hit the floor.”

Naishe swallowed. This wasn’t what she had expected. She didn’t move.

“No?” Luis tutted. “Don’t be rude to our guests. They came all this way to see you.” As he spoke, his hands began to snake down Naishe’s torso.

She tried to shrug him off but he didn’t budge.

“How kind of you to dress up for us…” When he reached the trousers, he slipped his thumbs inside.

“Stop.” Naishe pushed her hands against his but it was no use.

“Don’t be shy. I want them to see what I get to go to bed with every night.” Her struggles were nothing to him. He yanked the trousers down along with her underclothes in one pull.

Naishe felt the splash of air against her bare flesh. She tried to shake him off again, but Luis’ body was like a cage around her.

The Antivan trailed a hand up her inner thigh, twisting a finger through the hair between her legs. “You see this gentlemen? All mine…Every inch.” He peeled the wet shirt off her body and brought his hand up her abdomen to her chest. He filled his hands with Naishe’s breasts and squeezed.

The silence of Naishe’s audience was deafening. All the jeering and laughter was gone. Most of their eyes were fixed on Luis rather than her body.

“Perfect. Every part of you. I think I’m getting hard just holding you.”

He wasn’t lying. Naishe felt Luis press himself against her back, his manhood stiff and unforgiving.

Luis’ voice was already very low, but he dropped it to a whisper so that only Naishe could hear. “This is all you are. Tits and ass and legs and lips. Remember that next time you feel like making a joke.” He suddenly straightened and shoved Naishe into the centre of the room. “Any of you want a taste?”

Conflicted expressions and questioning glances spread around the room. All of the men remained seated, wondering whether this was some kind of test.

Naishe didn’t move. Luis was blocking the doorway. She’d have no chance of leaving until he permitted her to.

“None of you?” Luis let out a mirthless laugh. “Stunning you said. Dazzling! This is what you said to me. Were you lying?”

They shook their heads vigorously.

“No? Then prove it! Come up and show me just how pretty you think her.”

Naishe’s teeth were gritted and she stared defiantly at the opposite wall. _I swear I will cut off your balls and feed them to you, you living sack of shit._

Finally, one of the men stood. He swallowed and walked over to the naked Rivaini.

“At last! We have a volunteer.” Luis clapped his hands. “Bravo.”

The man raised a thickly bandaged had over Naishe’s hip and then looked to Luis, questioningly.

“Touch her you fucking coward!”

He jumped when Luis shouted, but obeyed.

The gauze was rough against Naishe’s skin, but she didn’t care. She was just counting the seconds until this was over.

Now that one man was up, the rest of them were striking up the courage to follow Luis’ orders. They rose one by one and joined the first man. Each of them ran their hands experimentally over part of Naishe’s body. At first they were cautious and only touched places like her shoulders and her back, but when Luis shouted things like “Touch her like a man!” or “Is this how you handle the whores you visit every night?”, they grew more brazen. They pinched her nipples and grabbed her backside. One of them even went so far as to kiss her thighs.

All the while, Naishe stood there, frozen. She reckoned she could have clawed one of their eyes, maybe two, before they restrained her or Luis intervened. With eleven of them and one of her, she didn’t stand a chance. She heard the rustle of one of them unfastening his belt when there was a loud snap.

“Stop.” It was Luis. Firm and cold.

The men let her go almost immediately, one of them grumbling as he refastened his belt.

Two guards had joined Luis in the doorway.

“Take her away.”

Naishe didn’t dare turn around. She couldn’t look Luis in the face right now and it felt like her body was rooted to the floor. The clunk of armoured boots rang through the parlour and the guards approached. One of them wrapped a cold gauntleted hand around her waist and hoisted her over their shoulder. They stomped out of the parlour with her hanging limp. She could only guess what the expressions of the men left in the room were. Bastards.

When she felt the lurch of the guard climbing the stairs, she started to struggle. She needed fresh air right now, clothed or not. This house was suffocating all the life out of her.

“Lord Mali-Kricco would prefer it if you remained in your chambers.” The female voice of the guard was deep and emotionless.

“Tell Lord Mali-Kricco that he can shove that suggestion up. His. Arse.” Naishe wriggled and squirmed but the guard was strong and her armour thick. By the time they’d reached the first floor landing, Naishe was trying to kick the guard in her head, but only succeeded in stubbing her toe. “Let. Me. Go!”

“Alycksa! Put her down!”

Naishe lifted her head to see Clarissa jogging towards them.

“Lord Mali-Kricco would prefer-”

“Lord Mali-Kricco asked me to keep an eye on her.” Clarissa shot a warning look at Naishe and rounded the guard to face her.

“We are to take her to her chambers.”

“I’ll take her when she’s cooled down. We wouldn’t want her getting hysterical and breaking something, would we?”

Naishe scoffed. Breaking something would be the least of their worries.

After conferring with the other guard through shrugs, Alycksa set Naishe on her feet. She nodded at Clarissa and the two guards plodded back to their posts by the entrance.

“Those fucking-”

“Don’t start.”

“Don’t start? He orders them to drag me back to my bedroom like a child after he’s stripped me naked for his friends to get off to and you’re telling me to-”

“Getting angry won’t solve anything.”

Naishe groaned in exasperation and said, “How can you say that after what they did?”

“Naishe-”

“He stripped me naked Clarissa! He told his friends to touch me! To do what they liked!”

“I know,” Clarissa said solemnly. “And I’m sorry. You never-”

“He treats me like a doll that he can just play with and then cast aside. What kind of man gets off on that?” Naishe rubbed her eyes. Crying now felt like letting Luis win. “Shit…”

“Oh Naishe…” Clarissa lay a hand on the Rivaini’s shoulder and rubbed it, as though that would somehow make everything better. “I’m so sorry…I wish I could do something. I wish it had never happened.” When Naishe didn’t resist, she pulled her into a hug.

Naishe clung to the other woman desperately. If she closed her eyes, she could pretend they were both somewhere far away from here.

“Let’s go to your balcony. Get some fresh air.”

Naishe nodded and they walked to her bedroom and out onto the terrace. Clarissa picked up Naishe’s dressing gown from her bed and handed it to her. They arranged cushions on the balcony and sat there gazing out at the landscape before them.

After a while, Naishe said, “I don’t understand it. None of them did anything. None of them _said_ anything. They all just did what he told them.”

Clarissa nodded sadly and tentatively asked, “Was there a man with bandaged hands there?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Gonçalo. He once tried to steal something from Luis. A painting. Worth a fortune. Luis invited him to dinner with his other associates…” She trailed off, looking uncomfortable.

Naishe looked sideways at her, “And?”

A sigh. “He sliced the fish knife under every one of his fingernails until they came off. Everybody saw.”

Naishe’s eyes were wide, “And he still works with Luis?”

Clarissa nodded again. “He wants everyone to know he’s in control. He always invites Gonçalo back to remind them what happens if they disobey.”

The Rivaini swallowed. It almost sounded like she’d gotten away easy. She was living with a monster. “I wish we could run away.”

The other woman hummed a noise of approval.

Neither of them wanted to point out the obvious, but they were both thinking it. Even if they made a break for it, every inch of Luis’ home was protected by guards. They’d catch them in a heartbeat. Even now, the unmistakable glint of armour was visible below them.

*

_At this point, dear reader, I must apologise. The ink on these pages may have smudged and parts of this chapter will be illegible. This part of her story never ceases to move me to tears. I try not to think too much about it. I wish I could write a different tale of hope and happiness. Of a dragon swooping down on the Mali-Kricco estate and flying Naishe, Clarissa, and all the others wronged by Luis to safety. But this is not what transpired, and I have sworn to recount the truth, as miserable and hopeless as it may be._

*

Naishe let out a heavy sigh, somehow managing to smile a little at the other woman. “Why is it you only see me when I’m naked?”

The Marcher chuckled, “There are worse habits to have.”

“I’ll bare that in mind…”

How was it possible that barely an hour ago she had been in a good mood? It seemed worlds away already. Still, as Naishe looked at Clarissa smiling next to her, she felt her spirits start to raise.


	16. Salt

Naishe tried to fill her days up as much as possible after that day. She trained with Zevran as often as he could be persuaded and practiced everything he taught her. When she wasn’t training she was exploring Antiva City and the surrounding towns, always closely accompanied by guards. She tried to pretend they weren’t there and that she was wandering the streets alone like she had in Rivain. Sometimes she could convince herself that she wasn’t a prisoner. Then she’d mentally scold herself for being overdramatic. She was living a life of luxury. What right did she have to complain?

She avoided Luis wherever possible, dining late and leaving any room he entered. Luis didn’t seem to notice, or he didn’t care. Naishe came when he was entertaining guests, but refused to speak anything more than a greeting unless a drink was in her hand.

Most of all, Naishe spent time with Clarissa. When she wasn’t working, Clarissa taught the Rivaini how to ride a horse, which Naishe hated, and how to catch winged crabs, which Naishe loved. They browsed antique shops and tasted strange foods at the markets. Clarissa watched on in apprehension when Naishe challenged a muscular dwarf to an arm wrestle for his ring. She lost monumentally and bought the dwarf and his friends drinks. Clarissa caught herself beaming at the Rivaini when she handed out tankards and tried to stifle it.

As a member of the house staff, she could sometimes persuade the guards that she would watch over Naishe when they left the estate, or at least convince them to give them some space. Sometimes the women could just lose the guards in a crowd, or sneak away when they weren’t looking.

On this particular evening, they had crept out of the servants’ quarters’ entrance and down the steep hillside without being followed. At the bottom of the hill was a small patch of sand and the sea. The beach was small enough that people rarely made the effort to seek it out, so Naishe and Clarissa were alone.

The two women sat beside each other facing out towards the ocean. Gulls squawked overhead. Naishe was lost in the landscape, but Clarissa couldn’t really focus on it. The proximity of the Rivaini was, as ever, distracting.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?”

Clarissa concentrated on what was in front of her. The sun was burning on the horizon. She agreed, it _was_ beautiful. Clarissa looked over at Naishe, and saw her utterly transfixed. There was nothing else in the world other than what lay in front of her. The untameable waters stretching out for an eternity. Clarissa was almost jealous that something could capture Naishe so completely.

“Did you know there are places where it’s considered a crime for a woman to wear anything other than velvet head to toe?”

Clarissa grinned, “Sounds like Orlais.”

Naishe’s awed gaze fixed on Clarissa, “Have you ever been?”

“Val Colline a few times. I had family there.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s…different. They have a peculiar way of doing things over there. Half the nobles value their silk gloves more than their own children.”

“I wonder what that’s like.”

Clarissa didn’t miss the sarcasm in Naishe’s voice. She didn’t know how to respond. Her mother was a delicate subject.

“Sorry.” Naishe smiled. She hadn’t meant to turn to conversation to that. “Your hair looks nice today.”

Clarissa was grateful for the setting sun. The increasingly dim light hid her blush fairly well. “Smooth.”

Naishe shrugged, “Hey, I was just changing the subject. And I’ve always liked yellow hair.”

Clarissa smirked, “Blonde. Not yellow. At least I hope not.”

“Blonde.” She tried the word out.

The way she said it, the way those full lips moved to make the sound sent a shiver down Clarissa’s spine. She made it sound almost dirty.

“I always thought it was a boring colour.”

Naishe raised an eyebrow. “Darling,” another shiver, “I have black hair. That’s about as dull as you can get.”

Was she kidding? She was the antithesis of dull. The way the light hit her hair made it shimmer. It revealed bronze amidst the black. It fell in wavy clusters down her neck and settled just past her shoulders. Clarissa wanted nothing more than to push that hair aside and press her lips to Naishe’s neck. Her skin was dark caramel in the setting sunlight. And those eyes…Maker. Golden embers that burned like fire. Like precious amber stones plucked from a crown. Surely, she must know how beautiful she was.

“You can kiss me if you like.”

Clarissa blinked, blushed, and shot Naishe a look of incredulity.

“I-what?”

Naishe gave her a far too knowing smile. “I said, you can kiss me if you want to.”

The poor Marcher spluttered. “That’s not what I-I wasn’t trying to-not that I wouldn’t-”

Naishe closed the gap and planted a soft kiss on Clarissa’s lips. Everything seemed to go silent. Even the seagulls had quietened. The swell of the ocean paused to listen.

The kiss was over quickly. Clarissa was utterly stunned, her face, if it was possible, even redder. She tried to find words but couldn’t.

Naishe took Clarissa’s reaction to mean she wasn’t interested. “My mistake. I shouldn’t have pre-”

Clarissa’s mouth was colliding against hers before she had a chance to finish her sentence. She cupped Naishe’s cheeks in her hands and kissed her with so much want and yearning that she didn’t think she would ever let go.

The Rivaini made a noise of approval and pulled Clarissa’s waist closer to her. Clarissa’s lips were soft and sweet. Exactly how Naishe had imagined when she’d thought of what kissing her might be like.

They’d both been waiting a long time for this.

Clarissa ran her hands along the edges and curves of that perfect physique. Naishe was so warm and smooth. She’d wanted to touch every inch of her from the moment they met. Now she could barely catch her breath. Her heart was drumming in her ears and she felt lightheaded. When Naishe pulled away for second Clarissa was going to say something, but the sultry look the Rivaini gave her kept her speechless.

Naishe was right about the freckles after all. She kissed Clarissa’s lips and then her jaw, moving up to her earlobes. When she dragged her teeth against them, Clarissa made a whimper of anticipation. The freckles spread down her neck, so that’s where Naishe planted her kisses. All the while, Clarissa clung to her hips like there was nothing else in the world.

A fire was burning through Clarissa like nothing before. She’d heard about the way Templars craved lyrium, and how it could drive them into a frenzy. This was a different kind of addiction. The more she touched Naishe, the more she tasted her, the more she wanted. An unquenchable thirst. She felt a jerk and was jogged out of her daze.

Naishe was looking at her questioningly and then lightly tugged again at the hem of Clarissa’s dress.

Those amber eyes she was looking into couldn’t be those of a human. A creature from the heavens maybe. What every person in Thedas dreamed of. A living fantasy. It was the easiest yes Clarissa ever said.

Naishe smirked a little and pulled Clarissa’s dress up and over her head. She pushed the woman gently down against the sand so she could look at her properly.

Clarissa felt rather self-conscious beneath the hungry gaze. Her slight frame and small breasts couldn’t compare to Naishe’s body. Her knees were scarred from falling off horses as a child. Her skin was too pale. She had a leaf-shaped birth mark on her left thigh. She knew she was a long way from perfect. But that wasn’t what Naishe seemed to see. The expression of the woman above her was burning with desire. When the Rivaini’s eyes found the birth mark, a mischievous smile spread over her face. Clarissa swallowed, knowing that Naishe could finally see how wet she was.

Naishe straddled Clarissa’s thighs and leant down to kiss her lips again, but she didn’t linger. She felt Clarissa’s murmurs of craving as she trailed kisses down her neck to her chest.

Clarissa’s breath hitched when she felt Naishe’s lips close around her nipple. Up until now, it had seemed almost too good to be true. Now it was real. Here on the beach at sunset, her employer’s wife was kissing her breasts. It was difficult to focus on anything after a while. Her sighs turned to moans. Her chest started to heave beneath Naishe’s touch.

The Rivaini had only lain with one other woman. Her mind had initially darted to the contents of those dirty books in her bedroom. Clarissa seemed to be responding to her touches similarly to the women drawn in the books, perhaps slightly less dramatically. Naishe kissed and sucked on Clarissa’s flesh with the passion of wildfire. The taste of salt, whether from the faint traces of sweat or that of the sea air, was driving Naishe crazy. She rubbed the nipple that she wasn’t kissing between her fingers gently. Clarissa’s moans became more desperate, so Naishe moved lower. Her lips dragged down the Marcher’s abdomen towards her legs. She glanced up at Clarissa and saw the woman biting her lip. Her eyes returned to the birth mark on her thigh. She kissed it, feeling Clarissa tremble.

“Please…”

At the sound of Clarissa begging, Naishe felt herself getting wetter. She teased the other woman some more, peppering kisses along the inside of her thighs and rubbing her legs. When it looked like Clarissa couldn’t take any more, she settled between her legs. She was so wet that Naishe briefly wondered whether she’d come already. The Rivaini ran her tongue slowly upwards and felt Clarissa’s body jerk. She could feel her blood pulsing and moved her head again and again. Up and down.

Clarissa’s moans became louder. It was just as well that they were alone on the beach. She clawed at the sand and her thighs tensed around Naishe’s head.

Naishe continued a steady rhythm, licking and sucking and kissing Clarissa’s folds. The more she moaned, the more her body heaved against the ground, the faster Naishe went.

The exhilaration of what they were doing was surging through both of them. Their connection was palpable.

Every time Naishe heard Clarissa moan, it was like she could feel what she was feeling. After a while, she felt a hand on the back of her head.

Clarissa’s back arched off the sand. Whether her eyes were staring straight up at the sky or squeezed shut, she couldn’t tell. She couldn’t see or hear anything anymore. All her senses had been extinguished, except for the feeling between her legs. She was beside herself with pleasure. Grinding her hips in time with the rhythm without even realising.

The Rivaini squeezed Clarissa’s thighs and went as hard as she could. She knew the other woman wouldn’t last much longer.

When Clarissa came, she gasped Naishe’s name. The heat she had always felt when she’d been around Naishe before had blazed into an inferno. Every nerve in her body was exploding with pleasure. She’d been quick to criticise the exaggerated ecstasy on the faces of those women in the smutty books she’d given to Naishe. Now she embodied them. As her afterglow started to fade, Clarissa realised that the stars she’d been seeing were in fact actual stars, rather than her mind overloading as she had suspected. The night sky twinkled down at the two women, their only witness.

Naishe pushed herself up into a sitting position and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. That same cat-like smile returned to her face.

When Clarissa had slowed her panting, she met Naishe’s gaze. She couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. “Maker…”

Naishe chuckled and crawled forward to kiss her again then settled a few centimetres away from her face. Gold staring at silver. “Good?”

Clarissa grinned sheepishly and replied, “Good.” She rested her forehead against Naishe’s for a while and closed her eyes. More than anything she wished she could freeze this moment right now. Just her and Naishe under the stars. No company but the gentle waves of the ocean, edging closer towards them.

When the water finally reached Naishe’s toes, she jumped a little and giggled.

“Ticklish?”

Naishe nodded and held her thumb and index finger an inch apart.

This time it was Clarissa’s turn to smirk. She held up her fingers and waggled them tauntingly at Naishe.

The Rivaini’s eye’s widened and she said, “Don’t you dare…”

Too late.

Naishe’s reflexes were fast enough to catch Clarissa’s wrists before she could tickle her, but the attacker’s momentum sent Naishe onto her back, their positions reversed.

“Whoops!”

“Argh…I’m soaking…”

“Really? I barely touched you.”

“Very funny.” Naishe sat up and peeled off her wet dress.

Clarissa blushed. She’d seen the Rivaini naked many times already, but it was still a sight to behold, particularly from this angle. Those amber eyes were gazing at her again. It was almost like they were glowing. They were in such stark contrast to the dusk around them.

“Like what you see?”

Clarissa half laughed, half sighed. “Very much.”

“Well…” Naishe took one of Clarissa’s hands in her and placed it on her own hip. “Why don’t you show me just how much…”

Despite her further blushing, Clarissa was grateful for Naishe’s direct approach. She could barely get two words out.

There was something comforting about lying against the surf. Naishe felt like she could melt right through the sand. When she felt Clarissa’s fingers drift between her legs it was bliss.

Clarissa didn’t want to rush it. She’d thought about this moment for months. Naishe laying before her glistening in the moonlight was well worth the wait. She eased a second finger inside her, never taking her eyes from her face. Clarissa didn’t want to miss a second of Naishe’s reaction.

Naishe’s breath hitched when she felt the other woman. Her own hands were absentmindedly caressing Clarissa’s hips. Her chest rose and fell as Clarissa pulled her fingers in and out of her, the pace steadily building. That familiar dull heat in the pit of her stomach was rising like a phoenix from the ashes. Reawakened and bursting with life. When Clarissa used her thumb to rub her clit, Naishe bit her lip.

“You’re so beautiful…” Clarissa was barely aware of her lips moving. She was too transfixed.

Naishe flicked her eyes up at the woman who’d shown her so much kindness and care in this place she hated so much. “Clarissa-” her sentence was cut off by a long moan before she could continue. “So…so are you.”

She shook her head.

“You are.”

Clarissa dropped her gaze a little shrugging and her fingers slowed. “I’m just a servant.”

“And?” Naishe pushed herself up and felt another twinge of pleasure. “I’m just a glorified merchant’s wife. It doesn’t mean shit to me.”

The Marcher still wasn’t looking at her.

“Hey.” Naishe tilted Clarissa’s chin upwards so she would meet her gaze. “Listen to me. You are kind and smart and funny and patient and beautiful. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” Naishe surprised herself by her own sincerity. But she was right. Without Clarissa her life would be miserable. It was unthinkable that Clarissa didn’t see what she did.

When Naishe kissed her, Clarissa felt the burning of tears in her eyes. Her heart felt like it was going to burst out of her chest. It was a better feeling than any she’d ever felt before. Better even than ten minutes ago.

“Aww don’t get emotional on me. I’m only stating facts.” Naishe smiled and wiped Clarissa’s cheek with her thumb.

“Sorry.” Clarissa grimaced, “Must be salt in my eye.”

Naishe laughed that wonderful rakish laugh and said, “Well, I believe you were in the middle of something...”

Clarissa chuckled, “Aye Captain.”

There was a new vitality to Clarissa this time. She felt impossibly energised, feeding off every whimper and sigh that escaped Naishe’s lips. After a while, when Naishe was actually biting on her shoulder, Clarissa slid her thighs either side of one of Naishe’s legs. When she moved her fingers inside the Rivaini she rocked her hips forwards. Clarissa felt a spike of pleasure from rubbing up against her thigh and struggled not to curse.

Naishe had wrapped her arms about Clarissa’s neck because she could barely hold herself up anymore. She was beginning to feel almost dizzy. Every flick of Clarissa’s finger sent her spiralling into a daze. Her breathing had turned ragged and gasping.

Clarissa felt Naishe’s fingernails digging into her shoulders and went even faster. Each time she thrust her fingers inside or tweaked Naishe’s swollen core, she would grind her hips forwards. The two women would moan in unison. They came simultaneously too.

Clarissa cried, “Naishe!”

Naishe cried, “Fuck!”

Clarissa had lost all sense of control. Her breasts were pressed up against the Rivaini’s and her body was shaking.

Naishe felt like an electric charge was crackling through her body. She clung to Clarissa for dear life and shuddered as wave after wave of ecstatic bliss washed over her.

After a while, Clarissa pulled her had away from Naishe’s folds and brought her fingers to her mouth. The tang of salt hit her tongue and she was suddenly reminded of where they were. Waves were lapping around them.

“Maybe we should move…” Naishe’s eyes were fixed on Clarissa’s fingers and she was still panting a little.

Clarissa nodded and stood, pulling Naishe up with her. “That was…incredible.”

“It was rather wasn’t it.” Naishe grinned a little and pushed a strand of Clarissa’s hair out of her face. Her hand lingered for a moment.

Rather reluctantly, they pulled on their dresses and underclothes. The sun had finally set and they were bathed in the soft darkness of dusk.

“I suppose we should head back…”

“I suppose…” Naishe turned her head to give the sea one last look. The longing in her eyes was mirrored by the woman stood next to her. Her head snapped back and she gave Clarissa a cheerful smile, taking her hand. “Lead the way.”

“As you wish.”


	17. Corral

It was a few weeks later, and Naishe had wondered down to the beach again. She found herself spending an increasing amount of time here, especially whilst Luis was away. It wasn’t the beach exactly; she loved the feeling of sand beneath her toes and the smell of salt in the air. The sound of gulls crying overhead was jarring but pleasant. But the ocean was the real siren call.

The bay looked different from this side of it. The waves were beckoning her closer. It was like a mass of sapphires shining in the sun. Topaz. Emerald. Lapis Lazuli. Apatite. Treasure glittering before her. She imagined ruling the ocean, living like a king. If there was any Maker out there, they were cruel to dangle this in front of her. The endless possibilities. Ferelden. The Free Marches. The Anderfels. Even Tevinter. All just beyond the horizon. She’d seen every inch of Rivain.

To be stranded in one place now made her feel claustrophobic. It was only the quiet, rational voice in her head that stopped Naishe from surrendering to her wanderlust and walking straight into the ocean.

“One day I’ll do it,” she hoped. But she knew she wouldn’t last a week. The sea was calm now, but it would turn. The innocent faces were always the wildest. A tempest would suck her into the deep dark abyss. Luis would give up searching after another week, find a new wife.

Her mother had probably already forgotten her. Duty to the Qun above all else. Naishe wasn’t sure if the sting in her eyes was from tears of longing for what lay before her, or salt.

Naishe was so wrapped up in her own thoughts that she only noticed the sound of boots in the sand when the owner was a few metres away.

It was him. Pravus Kamas. He approached slowly, taking his time to enjoy her disgust at his presence. She had never gotten used to how large his eyes were. It made her even more uncomfortable looking at him. The corners of his mouth were wet with saliva. He was excited.

“Well, well…”

Naishe was nervous, but tried not to show it. She crossed her arms, “Well what?”

“Well, well, well…”

Naishe scowled.

“Naughty girl. Ever so naughty.”

“Feel free to arrive at the point any day now, snake.”

This only seemed to excite Pravus further. His eyes positively bulged. “I often wondered what you did in your spare time when your husband was not with you. When no one was watching…Naughty Naishe.”

“I don’t have to listen to this.” Naishe made to shove past him, but Pravus’ hand shot out and grabbed her arm. His slight frame did well to disguise his strength. She tried to shake him off with no success.

“You and the servant girl have grown very close. _Too_ close, it seems.”

Naishe glared. “Let go of my arm before I break-”

“Did the Free Marcher slut charm you out of your smallclothes or was it you who initiated your little seaside antics?” Pravus had leaned closer, baring his black teeth in a grin. The more she struggled, the wider he grinned.

“I’ll tell Luis about this. I’ll tell him you hurt me.” If her voice faltered it was only for a second. But the damage was done.

“And who do you think he’ll believe?” Pravus leered, “His unfaithful Rivaini whore? Or the business associate he’s known for eleven years? I always said it was a mistake bringing one of your lot here.”

Naishe’s heart was plummeting, but she couldn’t hide her disgust. “You…you slimy little-”

“All I ask for is a little obedience. Give me that and I will not reveal your indecent treachery to your husband. I dare say you would not wish to make him angry.”

The Rivaini was using all her might to blink back the sting of tears in her eyes. She wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction. “I hope you drown in pig slurry you fucking toad,” she said as she tried to wrestle herself out of his grip.

Pravus sniggered, “I visited a village in Ferelden once. A lot of mages there. Rebels. Some had run away from their Circle. Some had committed terrible crimes under the influence of demons. Some were just unlucky. They turned the whole lot Tranquil. I had my pick of the litter. One girl was…most obliging. She barely bled.”

Naishe wanted to vomit. She tried again to escape, but Pravas’ grip was a vice.

“A pretty little thing, like you. She knew her place.”

“She didn’t have a choice.”

“She. Obeyed. I suggest you do the same.”

Naishe imagined the company of creatures from the Fade felt about the same as now. “What do you want?”

Pravus’ mask-like face twitched. Was that supposed to be a smile? “You will have no doubt noticed regular communications between your husband and the Imperium. He has been in talks with a resident of Ventus for some months now. I should like to know who it involves and what is being discussed. Easy enough for you to find out, I trust.”

Naishe sneered, “But surely he’d be only too happy to share this information with his _associate of eleven years_.”

Pravus paused. There was a tinge of something in his expression. Was it embarrassment? “Your husband stopped involving me in this business some weeks ago. He…no longer trusts my judgement.”

The Rivaini scoffed. “Hard to imagine why anyone would want to avoid your company.” She shook her head. “Well I don’t care. Ask him yourself.”

Pravus stared at her for a moment. His grip tightened even more. “Not your husband. Silly girl. Ser _Valisti_. Business with the Crows. Such information is only offered to his most trusted.”

“But you just said-”

“Luis will not share such information with you. He is too careful.” A smirk formed on Pravus’ lips. “And from what I gather, you have not been warmly accepted by him of late.”

Naishe scowled. “What makes you think Claudio would tell me anything?” It was evident why Pravus wouldn’t go to him himself. Naishe had never seen the two men exchange so much as a nod. She suspected Claudio didn’t think much of the ghoulish broker.

He ran a finger along her collarbone. His fingernails were long and sharp. She felt like he might cut her open at any moment. “Despite your heritage you have your charms.” His lip curled a little, “Even assassins have their weaknesses, and from my experience the unsuspecting are often the most willing to have their lips loosened.”

She had to bite her tongue when she heard that. “And what if I’m unsuccessful?”

“Failure is not an option.” He looked at the Rivaini girl with not a trace of sympathy. “Unless you’d like your little secret to be exposed to your dearly beloved husband.”

Naishe continued to glare. “I don’t care if Luis is angry. I’ll take that over helping scum like you.” Her accent was coming out again. It still did when she was this riled up.

Pravus stared at her again in silence, then sneered. “Let’s take a walk.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house.

Naishe wasn’t going to move, but Pravus released her arm and used his hand to shove her forwards. She gave the ocean one last defeated look as she walked away from it.

*

Even though Pravus had relinquished his grip on her, Naishe still felt his grasp. She was trapped. With him close behind, there was no escape. She could feel his eyes on her, his breath against her neck. Surely someone, _one_ of the other servants of Luis’ home would see them. _Someone_ would save her, surely.

The help she craved never came. Pravus directed Naishe towards the kitchens. There was a clattering of saucepans. Naishe’s heart sunk when she saw the cause of the noise. A flustered Hamaal was picking up the pans and returning them to their respective hooks. He was so jumpy that several fell to the ground for a second time.

“Elf.”

Hamaal froze at the sound of Pravus’ voice.

“Come here.”

He turned to look at the two of them, and promptly turned green. “S-serah?”

Pravus beckoned with a finger.

Naishe couldn’t understand how Hamaal of all people had anything to do with her and Clarissa.

The elf boy laid the saucepans on a table and walked tentatively over to them.

“Turn around and lift up your shirt.”

“Hamaal, you don’t have to-”

Pravus pinched the soft flesh of Naishe’s arm. She cursed.

Quivering, Hamaal lifted up his shirt and showed them his back. Long scarlet lacerations were etched across his skin. The scars had puckered with age. They were not the random work of some great beast. These marks had been purposefully left.

“W-why…why are you showing me this?” Naishe’s voice almost cracked.

Pravus wetted his lips. “Your dear husband is noble, but he has quite the temper. I would hate for you to be the cause of his rage…Much less dear _Clarissa_.” He said this like he would like nothing more than to watch Naishe be victim to Luis’ wrath.

Naishe’s mouth was dry. She couldn’t speak. She knew Luis to be conceited. Possessive, controlling, even revolting, but she’d _never_ thought him to be this cruel. This vicious. Would could the poor elf have possibly done to provoke him in this way? Served his soup cold?

She tried to swallow. Maybe she’d been naïve. Was it really so surprising but an associate of an order of assassins had a violent temper? Naishe was young. Right then, nothing seemed worse than a beating. She wasn’t yet fully aware of the cruelty the world had to offer. She _knew_ she couldn’t let something like this happen to Clarissa.

“I’ll help you.”

“Yes. You will.” Pravus ran a crooked finger along one of Hamaal’s scars, his eyes sparkling. “Consider this a warning.” He stalked away, leaving the other two quivering, one with fear, the other with rage. “Elf!”

Hamaal looked at Naishe sadly then put his shirt on and plodded after Pravus.

Naishe rubbed her face with her hands. This retched place had a habit of snatching away something good just when she was starting to enjoy it. _Andraste’s bloody balls._ How had she been so careless? Had she even checked that no one was following them when they went to the beach?

“Fuck.”

Pravus had some nerve condemning her infidelity. If the way Luis invited his associates to have at it with his naked wife was anything to go by Naishe highly doubted that her husband was abiding by their marriage vows either. Naishe’s fists were clenched. She was so angry and so afraid. She felt like a helpless little girl.

She looked over at the nearest table when Hamaal had been chopping onions. Poor bloody Hamaal. He was no doubt being humiliated by Pravus further now.

“Fuck,” she said again. The Rivaini turned her thoughts towards what Pravus had asked of her. The sooner she spoke to Claudio, the sooner she could put this behind her. But would Pravus let it go that easily?

Naishe would have to find out.


	18. Charm

Images of Hamaal’s lacerations were burned into Naishe’s mind. How was it possible that only one day ago, she’d been giggling to herself about Clarissa? That seemed worlds away now.

“You’re looking very lovely this evening, Naishe.” A maid passing her in the hallway smiled.

Naishe was so distracted she only managed to nod in response. The maid wasn’t just being polite. Naishe had found a sleek gown which blurred the lines between eveningwear and lingerie. Black lace clung to her hips and waist. It loosened around her legs, but the material was so sheer the extra coverage was almost redundant. The dress dipped in a large V to reveal her breasts as much as public decency allowed. Naishe also worse a black corset, and could scarcely breathe. She’s asked one of her handmaids to powder her eyelids in gold. It brought out her eyes.

Naishe was aware she looked stunning. Modesty had never been her greatest asset. As Hari used to say, “If their eyes are on your tits they won’t be on their pockets.” Naishe was starting to fully appreciate these words of wisdom as she entered adulthood. She’d considered trying to threaten the information out of Claudio, but the likelihood of successfully intimidating an assassin was very slim. Stealing was also an option, but Claudio seldom left his belongings lying around, and she had no idea where he lived. His visits never included much detail about where he’d come from, at least when she was around.

Naishe knew he was coming to pose for a painting. A commission for himself, apparently. Standing completely still was all that was required of Claudio, so Luis, uninterested in the actual creation of the paintings he sold, had left to have dinner with one of his colleagues. The artist insisted on complete silence while he worked. Naishe was sure Claudio would be bored. This would work in her favour.

“Ser Valisti. Do not let your arm descend any further. The shadow must be right.”

Naishe took the exasperated sigh to be Claudio’s. The painting was taking place in the map room. She knocked on the door and pushed it open.

The artist, a half-elf soporati trying to make his name in Antiva, added a few delicate touches of paint to the table leg on his canvas.

Claudio’s eyes flew to Naishe, taking in what she was wearing.

“I hope you don’t mind the intrusion.”

The artist made a loud ‘hmph’. “No, Lady Naishe, I suppose we’re done for the day.” His voice was high and shrill. He spoke with a heavy lisp and sprayed his canvas with spit when he spoke.

Claudio looked relieved as he lay the sextant he’d been posing with on the table and stretched his arms.

“A few more weeks and it’ll be complete.”

“A few _weeks_?!” Claudio goggled at the artist. “You told me this would be three days’ work.”

The artist looked unconcerned, and waved his hand dismissively. “You cannot rush a masterpiece.”

Claudio muttered a curse under his breath.

“Please arrive on time tomorrow, Ser.”

Claudio and Naishe watched as the artist packed up his brushes, give each of them a curt nod, and left.

“Ass.”

Naishe sniggered and walked over to lean against the side of the table next to him, “Why the sextant?”

Claudio rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “His idea. He said it makes me look pensive.”

“Because if there’s one thing you’re known for, it’s sailing.”

He smirked, “Indeed. He’s an idiot. I should never have agreed to this.”

“Well, you look handsome in the painting.”

“I do? Well that’s something. He won’t let me see it until it’s finished.” He looked her up and down. “I must say, it’s a shame he wasn’t painting you today, my dear. You look very beautiful.”

Naishe tried to force her face to blush. She settled for a small giggle. “No one would want to buy that I’m sure.”

“Try looking in a mirror some time.”

This seemed as good an opening as any. “It’s funny…” Naishe hand trailed along the edge of the table. “All his talk about Tevinter. I assumed the artist was painting Luis.”

Claudio raised an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“Well, he’s _constantly_ going on about Tevinter. I can’t tell whether he’s planning a trip or just has a magister pen pal.” Naishe leaned against the table and grimaced. “Every time I ask him what he’s on about he looks at me like I’m an idiot.”

The Antivan smiled. “I don’t think it’s anything particularly interesting Naishe. Just business.”

“I’m not stupid, you know.” Before Claudio could respond she said, trying to sound as casual as possible, “It’s just…I don’t know. I’m his wife. It’d be nice to have a vague idea about his work. You must understand.”

Claudio smiled with sympathy. “I do understand, my dear. And I’m sure Luis would be only too happy to share such things with you if you asked.”

_Shit. Well that didn’t work._

“You must be patient with him, Naishe. Luis sees everything as a game that he has to win. It sometimes makes him…lose focus on his personal matters.”

That was a generous way of referring to a man who forced his friends to touch his wife. A man who flayed the vulnerable Hamaal. Naishe could barely refrain from scoffing.

“That’s what I like about you Claudio,” she said, straightening up and stepping closer to him. “You understand people.”

Claudio chuckled and shrugged his shoulders, holding his ground. “You flatter me.”

“I wish…I wish _he_ was more like you.” Naishe could feel her heartbeat in her ears.

“Oh yes?”

“Yes…Understanding. Kind. Charming.” She swallowed. “Handsome.”

Claudio had an unreadable look on his face. There was no way of telling whether the seduction was working or not.

Naishe stepped even closer until they were a hand-width apart. “I…I think about you Claudio. A lot.” Her lips were slightly open, and her eyelids were half-closed. The fuck-me look Luis would never get to see.

“Me.” His tone wasn’t critical or questioning, merely affirming what she had said.

Taking a leap of faith, Naishe placed her hands on his chest and leaned towards his face.

But Claudio stopped her. “Let us not confuse our relationship, Naishe.”

“I want you.” Sometimes men needed it to be spelled out for them.

He gave her the kind of smile you would a merchant you were turning down. “You are married. To a husband who loves you, and a man I deeply respect.”

Naishe tried not to snort, “I don’t care. I want _you_. I _need_ you.” She tried to kiss him again, to no avail.

Claudio held her at arm’s length and sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “You are confused. It is normal at your age. You’re feeling many things.”

“I know what I want,” the Rivaini said, a little more defiantly.

“Be that as it may, I would never betray your husband in such a way. I would advise that you do the same.”

“He doesn’t have to know.”

Claudio chuckled, “My, my, aren’t you persistent.”

“Tell me that you’ve honestly never wondered what I taste like.”

He laughed again, “And forward. Maker, he’s got his hands full with you. Is this why you got yourself all…What’s the phrase? ‘Dolled up’?”

She took that as a cue to push her chest out slightly. The corset made it difficult. “Don’t pretend you don’t like it.”

He let his hands fall. “I…suppose I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the view.”

“And you could enjoy so much more than that,” as she said this, she moved her hands up his lapels. This time, he didn’t move away.

“We shouldn’t.”

“What was it you said to me when we first met? ‘You have to take some risks in life. Or what’s the point in living?’”

He didn’t respond. He just looked at her.

Naishe decided there was nothing else for it, and leaned in to kiss him. His lips were stiff at first, but eventually they started to respond to her kisses. He opened his mouth a little, and his hands cupped her hips. He wasn’t as blunt as Luis, or as sensual as Zevran. Naishe had yet to see whether this would coax any information out of him. It felt like Pravus’ beady eyes were watching everything.

The kissing was beginning to leave her a little breathless. Claudio made a noise of approval. Clearly he was making her excited. His hands slid down to her buttocks and squeezed. Naishe was confused. Claudio was attractive, yes, but she’d never had any actual feelings for him. Yet her body seemed to be completely surrendering to him. She was fighting for breath. He was kissing her neck. Her chest was heaving. He was whispering things, but she could barely hear. Naishe thought she felt the door slam open. Shouts. A clang.

Suddenly, she wasn’t holding Claudio. Her face was against something hard and flat. Her lungs were screaming for mercy. Clarissa. Clarissa. Those were her silver eyes. There was a loud ripping sound. Naishe gasped for breath, sucking air into her starved lungs.

Her sight was starting to clear, and eventually she was able to sit up, breathing heavily. “What…What happened?”

Clarissa was staring at her with wide eyes, “You…Claudio…I heard noises…”

Naishe rubbed her head and winced. There was a bruise from where her head must have hit the floor.

“He was kissing you…I thought…he was attacking you.”

“Uhhh…not exactly.” Naishe looked at the remnants of her corset. It had been sliced open with a letter opener.

“You’re corset was too tight. You couldn’t breathe.”

“Yeah. I remember that bit…”

Clarissa still looked very serious, “You nearly passed out.”

“Duly noted.” She gave Clarissa a mini salute, “Learn out to tie corsets properly.” Naishe looked around. It was just them in the study. “Was Claudio’s corset too tight as well?”

Now Clarissa’s eyes dropped to the ground. “I…hit him,” she said sheepishly.

“You what?!”

“I hit him.” She eventually met Naishe’s gaze again. “I thought he was attacking you! I had a frying pan so I…” she mimed swinging something at Naishe’s head.

Naishe couldn’t help but snort a laugh.

“It’s not funny!” The corners of Clarissa’s lips were slightly raised despite her protest. “I’ll get in trouble for this.”

“Shit Clarissa…You’ve got balls.”

“Maybe. But it’ll be my head on the chopping block,” she said, resigned.

Naishe privately agreed with her, but she needed words of encouragement right now. “Don’t think about that. If Claudio did tell Luis, he’d have to explain why you hit him the first place. He’s not going to admit to kissing me.”

That perked her up a little, but she still looked worried. “Speaking of which…why _was_ Claudio kissing you?” Clarissa tried to sound neutral. Jealousy was building in the pit of her stomach.

It was Naishe’s turn to look sheepish. “It’s…hard to explain…” She didn’t want to worry Clarissa with Pravus’ threat, but she also didn’t want her to think that time on the beach had meant nothing.

“Hard to explain.” Clarissa’s tone had grown suddenly cold. She got to her feet, frowning. “I’m not an idiot you know.”

“No. Wait, Clarissa…” Naishe stood. “It’s not like that.”

Clarissa made to leave. “What you do in your own time is none of my business.”

“Hey!” Naishe grabbed Clarissa’s arm, “Don’t be like this.”

“Like what?” She turned to face Naishe again, glaring. “What am I being like?”

Naishe gathered her thoughts and spoke very carefully. “This wasn’t what you think. I…I can’t tell you what exactly…I don’t want to worry you.”

Clarissa’s eyebrow was raised, but she didn’t look entirely convinced. “Helpful.”

“It’s…complicated.”

“Don’t patronise me, Naishe.”

“I’m not trying to!” Naishe sighed. “Come to my room after dinner. I’ll explain everything.”

“You’re sure about that?”

Naishe smiled and squeezed her hand. “I’m sure. Now are you going to let me kiss you or not?”

Clarissa stifled a smirk. “The last person who kissed you ended up pretty bruised. Is that what’s going to happen to me?”

Naishe stepped forward, “Only if you ask nicely.”


	19. Mobbed

She asked for someone to bring her water to bathe. She needed to get the smell of Claudio’s perfume off her. It felt like an impossible task. He clung to her. Her skin was raw within minutes.

As she scrubbed, Naishe tried to keep her mind focussed on Clarissa, but intruding memories kept resurfacing. Claudio. Hamaal. Pravus. She felt nauseous. Without any new information, she had nothing to offer Pravus in exchange for his silence. He could have Clarissa gone in a day, if Claudio didn’t get there first. The Antivan had always treated her kindly, and, although he often carried salacious intent, had always behaved respectfully for Luis’ servants. Naishe was hoping he would show some compassion towards Clarissa. There was no way to know.

“Fuck.”

After a while, she let her head sink below the water. It was calming. The rest of the world shut out. Quiet. Peace. She thought of the mermaid that had attended her wedding with envy. How nice it would be to just dive into the sea. All the way to the bottom. Some of the seers had spoken of water spirits that lurked in the deepest oceans. Fragments of the Fade that had splintered into the sea. Something about it sounded appealing. There was a whole other world under the water, and she was stuck on land.

When Naishe surfaced, she had a plan. Not a very good one, but she didn’t have many options.

*

Luis was due to return the next day, and had requested the presence of Pravus to discuss some financial matters.

“How do I look?” Naishe spun around in the middle of her bedroom. Long, loose dandelion yellow fabric fluttered through the air.

“Beautiful,” Clarissa smiled from the bed, “as usual. I might even say edible.”

Naishe stopped spinning to face the mirror, winking at Clarissa’s reflection. “Hair up or down?”

She got off the bed and went over to the Rivaini. She lifted Naishe’s hair off her shoulders and held it in place. “I think Luis would like something like this. He likes being able to see your neck.”

“What would _you_ prefer?”

Clarissa planted a kiss on Naishe’s shoulder. “As long as I get to see you, I don’t care. You could show up in a burlap sack a still look exquisite.”

The Rivaini stared at her in the reflection for a second, then turned and wrapped her arms around her neck. “Flatterer.”

Their kisses felt like precious moments they couldn’t waste. Clarissa held Naishe close to her. She had been thinking about what had happened with Claudio. Naishe had still not explained, but now didn’t seem like the right time. Naishe’s lips made it easy for Clarissa to let her mind go blank.

After a while, Naishe pressed her forehead to the other woman’s. “Thank you.”

“For the kiss?”

“For everything. I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.”

Clarissa stroked Naishe’s cheek with her thumb. “Believe me, the pleasure was all mine.”

Naishe chuckled and kissed her again.

A thump from downstairs brought them back to reality. Luis had returned.

Naishe looked down at herself, frowning. “I hate this. Dressing up to please him. It feels so pathetic.”

“Don’t think of it that way,” Clarissa said, trying to think of a way to cheer her up again, “Wear it for you. He doesn’t have anything to do with it.”

Naishe raised her gaze back to Clarissa. “Maybe I should be wearing it for you.”

“You shouldn’t wear anything for me.”

The way Naishe smirked at her, with that mischievous glint in her eye…It made everything worth it. Hitting Claudio. Risking her position here. Clarissa felt like Naishe’s dirty little secret.

“Naishe! Come down here my princess! I’ve missed you!”

Naishe groaned and let go of Clarissa. “That’s my cue.”

Clarissa watched her walk to the door, sad to see her go.

“Come here tonight, if you can.”

Clarissa gave her a small slate, “Aye aye, Captain.”

Naishe grinned and open the door. “I’ll be sure to cut my nails…”

Clarissa couldn’t wipe the beam off her face after Naishe had left. She started making the bed, her mind racing.

*

_Falling in love. It’s the falling part we sometimes forget about. You can never be sure if the person you are falling for is going to catch you. Being in love with someone like Isabela is like being at sea. If happiness is the ship, love is the tempest. It tears you apart. It leaves you hollow. If you’re lucky, you drown. Love is…shit…It’s as deep and mysterious as the ocean. The unlucky ones are those that come up for air. But I suppose there are some who are content to sail calmer waters._

_I’ll give you a warning; falling isn’t something you can do gracefully, and you rarely do it without suffering some pain. Like Clarissa, I loved Isabela in all her shameless glory. I still do. And I’ve never recovered. Perhaps I never will._

*

“Daaaaaarling.” Luis stretched out his hands and strode over to give Naishe a firm wet kiss.

Naishe, although slightly revolted, recovered quickly. “I…missed you,” she smiled as sincerely as she could muster.

“Of course you did. I have brought you back many pretty little things I’m sure you will enjoy.”

“Great...”

Luis missed her poor attempt at enthusiasm.

Naishe felt bad as she watched her husband usher over Hamaal, whose hands were laden with packages. He was giving her gifts. She hadn’t done anything to earn them, and it wasn’t as though she had demanded them.

“First,” he handed Naishe a thick leather-bound book, “I saw you looking over my old book of maps. It’s rather outdated. I had my best cartographer draw this up. I has the new additions from beyond the western fjords. Do you like it?”

Naishe’s smile was perfectly genuine. She beamed from Luis to the book, and back to Luis. “It’s…beautiful.” She turned the pages to see more of the map drawings, careful not to smudge any of the ink. It looked like the maps had been drawn that morning.

Luis had a huge grin. “I warms my heart to see you so happy, my princess.”

Naishe didn’t even mind that much when he kissed her cheek. “Thank you. I love it.”

“That’s not all,” Hamaal tiptoed forward and gave him a velvet box. “I think you would look very nice in this.”

This interested Naishe a lot less. It was a heavy silver fringe necklace dripping in rubies. It spoke volumes about Luis’ wealth to whomever he wanted her to wear it in front of. “It’s…Yes. Very pretty. Tha-”

“Aaaand…” Luis presented a final gift. A diadem of silverite. “For my princess. Now you will look the part.”

Naishe smiled politely, and let Luis kiss her again. She didn’t want to seem ungrateful. She _loved_ the book. The jewellery…it was nice. They were very generous gifts. But they weren’t really her. She thought they were gaudy.

“Wear them tonight. We’ll only be dining with a few of my associates but…I like to see you sparkle.”

“As you wish.” Naishe wondered whether associates meant Claudio.

*

As was customary with Luis after one of his trips, he was keen to be alone with Naishe. He asked her to pleasure herself whilst he watched. She was getting better at faking it.

Naishe had hoped to see Clarissa before their dinner guests arrived, but she was nowhere to be seen. Despite her best hopes, Pravus had not been struck down by lightning or dismembered by a witch, and dined with them. When he saw her new bangles, there was a trace of irritation in his eyes, as though he didn’t believe she was worthy of such finery.

Luis spoke of his trip. The galleries he had visited and the paintings he had bartered. It sounded like he had been promising young up-and-coming artists riches for their masterpieces, and then selling them on for a handful of coppers. Naishe tuned out when he started describing the models he had hand-picked for a particular tavern scene. She silently wondered how many young women would need to visit healers in the coming weeks to rid them of the little problem Luis had undoubtedly left them with.

“…red hair all the way down past her hips. And those lips!” Luis sighed. Tact was never his strong point.

Men Naishe didn’t know sniggered around the table. Pravus merely gave a curt nod.

Naishe had the unfortunate task of being left to entertain Luis’ guests whilst he and Pravus talked business elsewhere. One of them, an Anders with greasy hair, laid his hand on her backside, and proceeded to tell her bad jokes about livestock. She smiled politely and laughed when expected, but in her head was thinking about how she’d systematically break each of his fingers.

“What do you call a herd of cows masturbating?”

Naishe sighed.

“Beef-strokin-off!”

Her company guffawed with laughter. Even Pravus cracked a smile.

“You don’t like that darlin’? I ‘eard you liked the taste o’ beef.”

More laughter.

 _Someone. Anyone. Just set fire to me now._ Naishe didn’t react. It was what they wanted and she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

Luis had made many attempts for Naishe to entertain him and his guests in the past. Again Naishe had wondered why he’d chosen _her_ to wed, when there was an abundant supply of women who could dance and play music and sing. Her talents did not befit the lady of the house, but she decided against pickpocketing Luis’ friends as entertainment.

Clarissa taught her simple steps to a dance that predominantly comprised of spinning with her arms in the air and undulating her abdomen. Naishe supposed it didn’t really matter what she did so long as her finer features were on display. Luis tended to give her garments of very thin silk to wear when such occasions arose. He bought her an estrangata; a Rivaini instrument made of wood, not unlike the Ferelden flute. Naishe managed a few tinny notes on it and was able to string together a short tune, but music had never been her forte.

Clarissa tried to teach her the verses to ‘Tessa the Pure’ but stopped her after the third line. It was very apparent that Naishe was utterly tone deaf. The servant explained this as delicately as she could to Luis, who demanded to hear Naishe sing at once. He stopped her after the second line.

At last, Luis returned to rescue her.

“Thank fucking Andraste…” Naishe muttered under her breath, extracting herself from the oaf.

“Have you been traumatising my wife?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, boss. We was just talkin’ about meat. Y’know, Rivaini cuisine and that.”

“Well, you know me.” Luis shot a look at Naishe and smacked her buttocks. “I’m a rump man myself.”

Naishe left the men to their jeers, seething. She wished Zevran were here to spar with her. She needed to hit something.

“Leaving so soon?” The unmistakeable sound of Pravus appeared behind her.

She turned to see the snake-like man. He was doing nothing to improve her mood.

“I hear there’s been quite a commotion in the house today. Your husband has so much to catch up on…”

Naishe pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. This.

“Well, it seems like you want to be alone with your thoughts.” He made to go, but Naishe called out to him.

“Wait. I know where Claudio is going.” She crossed her arms, “and who he’s meeting with.”

Pravus didn’t visibly react to this information. Naishe had expected another snake-like smile. “Continue.”

“Ansburg. In the east.”

“I know where Ansburg is. Who is he meeting?”

“A mage. Anita…Anita Hardwood.” It was the name of a woman who’d inspired certain drawings in the book Clarissa had given her. If the drawings were accurate, she was very flexible.

Ideas already seemed to be forming in Pravus’ mind. “Interesting…A mage…But why would he-?” Pravus’ eyes fell on something behind Naishe, and he fell silent.

A familiar scent stung Naishe’s nostrils. Perfume. Her heart sunk and she turned to see Claudio. He was dressed as elegantly as ever, and he walked with his usual strut, but a think white bandage was wrapped around his head. The flesh around his right eye was purple and swollen. Clarissa had done a real number on him.

Pravus’ eyes bulged at the sight of him but he remained quiet.

Claudio didn’t even meet Naishe’s furtive gaze. “Pravus.”

“Ser Valisti.” Both Pravus and Naishe watched Claudio walk into the room where Luis and he cronies were.

Naishe’s mouth was suddenly very dry.

After a moment, a rough wheezing noise came from Pravus’ mouth. He was laughing. “How hard did you hit him?” he snorted, “Were you trying to wipe his memory?”

Naishe shrugged, “You have what you wanted.”

“For the moment.” Pravus wetted his lips.

“I’ll leave you to your scheming.”

“And I’ll try to keep my lips sealed.” Pravus watched her start climbing the stairs, then returned to Luis.

“Piece of shit…” Naishe muttered.

She was in a foul mood when she reached her bedroom and opened the door. To her surprise, she found her room filled with blooming flowers. Everywhere from the doorway to the window. Naishe was amazed.

“Do you like them?” Clarissa seemed to be exactly where Naishe had left her on the bed.

“You…How?” Naishe looked around in awe.

“Hamaal. I told him you liked lilies ** _._** ”

Naishe raised an eyebrow, “Where did he get them from? I thought they didn’t grow in Antiva.”

Clarissa smiled. “They don’t. They’re not really there.” She got off the bed and went to plant a kiss on Naishe’s cheek. “I hope that doesn’t make the gesture less romantic.

Naishe replied with a look of confusion.

The Free Marcher grinned. “It’s an illusion. Hamaal’s good at those.

Naishe still said nothing.

“Magic.”

“Hamaal’s a _mage_?” Naishe’s stare at her with wide eyes. She’d never seen magic like this. There were witches in Rivain who could turn a few tricks and hex unsuspecting Qunari, and she’d met a shapeshifter on her trips with her mother, but nothing like this. It was beautiful. And the fact that Hamaal was responsible…She wondered why Luis hadn’t mentioned anything. Why the elf hadn’t used his magic to defend himself when Luis was so angry, and save himself from those horrible scars.

She was going to voice these thoughts, but stopped herself. Hamaal might not have told Clarissa. Naishe didn’t want to spill the information if he was keeping it private.

Clarissa chuckled, “Yeah. You didn’t know?”

“Would I look this surprised if I did?”

“Point taken.” She made to kiss Naishe on the lips, but she was still entranced by the flowers.

“They’re beautiful.”

“I hope so. That was the idea.”

Naishe sighed. They looked so real. It made her sad in a way. She wanted to see real lilies. To touch them. Smell them. She couldn’t do that here.

Clarissa saw her smile drooping. “Is everything alright?”

Naishe looked back at her and nodded. “Yes. I’m just…they’re amazing.”

“Good,” Clarissa moved a hand casually up Naishe’s arm. “Because I was kind of hoping this would win me sexual favours…”

Naishe laughed and let the other woman take her in her arms. “I think I can think of some way to thank you…”

Clarissa leaned forward to kiss her, but Naishe pressed her fingers to her lips.

“Not so fast.”

She dragged her lips down Clarissa’s neck slowly. She could feel her heartbeat racing. Naishe pulled the skirts of Clarissa’s dress up her body so she could feel her thighs and slip her fingers between them.

The Free Marcher groaned. The hot breath against her skin. Naishe’s whispers. Her wandering hands. Clarissa could already feel how wet she was.

Naishe shoved her back against the wall. Clarissa’s hisses of pain were soon quelled by sighs when she felt Naishe’s teeth graze her neck. The Rivaini sucked at her skin lightly. She wanted to leave marks on Clarissa, so she couldn’t forget. She could feel Clarissa’s arousal. Her fingers were already wet. She was about to go further when they heard a voice.

“Clarissa!”

They both stopped. Clarissa had to fight hard to slow her breathing.

“Clarissaaaa!”

Luis. Naishe felt a knot in her throat. She looked at Clarissa.

The servant girl gave her a shrug and reluctantly peeled herself away from Naishe. “Probably wants more wine.”

Naishe didn’t know how to voice the worry in her mind. She didn’t have enough time to warn her.

“CLARISSAAA!”

She straightened her dress and patted her hair down so it sat flatter on her head. Her cheeks however were still flushed. “I’ll be back soon.” She squeezed Naishe’s hand, gave her one last kiss, and exited the room, where the flowers had begun to wilt.

“I’m counting on it…”


	20. Prescription

Naishe waited for Clarissa to return, but she never did.

She lay awake in bed, unable to sleep, least of all because of the storm raging outside. Images of Claudio’s accusations, of Pravus relaying her deviant behaviour, and even of Luis’ anger filled her head. She tried to reassure herself that Clarissa was just too busy. There had been a lot of Luis’ associates there, and they probably demanded more food and more wine. Perhaps she had been asked to ‘entertain’ them, though that did nothing to appease Naishe’s worry.

Sometime in the early hours of the morning, the Rivaini finally fell asleep.

When a servant she didn’t recognise woke her, Naishe’s fears were confirmed.

“Your husband’s asked for your presence in the parlour.”

A dreary-eyed Naishe reluctantly dressed, made some attempt to make up her face and plodded off to the parlour. Anxiety was making her hands shake. She heard men’s voices on the other side of the parlour door and pushed it open.

Luis and the bandaged Claudio were waiting for her. They were smoking foul-smelling cigars, but Luis promptly set his down when she entered and went to greet her.

Naishe could taste the tobacco when Luis kissed her, and wrinkled her nose.

“Good morning, my dear. Did you sleep well?” He eyed her up and down.

She made a non-committal grunt.

“Yes…Make sure you have Jibril see to your hair in a moment.” He picked at one of the strands of hair. “Looking a little scruffy today aren’t we? You’re not living on the street any more, my princess.”

Naishe knew any protest would fall on deaf ears. “What’s going on?” she said through gritted teeth.

“It appears,” Luis gestured at Claudio who had remained silent the entire time, “that a member of the household assaulted our good friend Claudio.”

Naishe feigned surprise, “Assaulted? Surely not. No one here would ever do that. Couldn’t something have fallen off one of the shelves and hit him on the head?”

“No, no. Claudio is quite certain he was hit on purpose. Why, I have no idea.”

“Yes,” Claudio finally met Naishe’s eyes. “I was wondering the same thing.”

Naishe looked back to Luis. “Maybe it was just an accident?”

He shook his head. “That’s not what it sounded like. It doesn’t matter. Clarissa is already gone.”

Naishe’s eyes widened, “Gone? You…You got rid of her?”

“She hit him with a frying pan! I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour in my house! I’ve sent her away.” Irritation filled Luis’ eyes. He had clearly not expected this objection.

“She didn’t mean to! I’m sure of it!” Naishe looked at him with pleading eyes. “How long has she worked for you? You know she would never do something like that. It was an accident! Maybe she thought he was an intruder, or-”

“Enough.” Luis held up his hand, “the damage is done. She’s gone. That is the end of it. Now are you going to settle down and join us for breakfast or carry on being hysterical?”

The defiant glare in Naishe’s eyes must have given her planned objections away, because Luis sighed and placed his hand over her mouth.

“Not another word.”

Naishe was tempted to bite his hand, but she knew nothing good would come of it.

Luis jerked his head at one of his servants who’d appeared as though on cue. “You. Take her up to her room. I don’t want to hear any more whining today.”

*

Fury filled every bone in Naishe’s body. Books flew across the room. Chairs were upturned. A window was smashed. The storm outside wailed and rain poured through the broken glass. The splendid silks in her armoire was shreds on the floor. Naishe still wasn’t satisfied. She wrenched one of the wretched oil paintings off the wall. The scene depicted was fairly benign; a nymph in a forest clearing, beckoning to an armoured youth to come closer. The fact that the nymph was naked was probably for Luis’ benefit. Naishe no longer saw a beautiful painting, she just saw him. She plunged a paper knife into the heart of the nymph, tearing through the painting with ease. She stabbed and stabbed, over and over. The painting was little more than scrap when Naishe fell to her knees, letting out a sob.

The chaos was meant to be a rebellion. Against Luis. Against his life. Against this marriage. But Naishe felt empty. He had taken everything from her. Her childhood. Her freedom. Her friend. Even her bitch of a mother. She’d never felt more alone than she did in that moment.

Her body curled into a ball. The floor beneath her damped with her tears. She felt more like a lost little girl than ever before.

This time, Clarissa didn’t come to comfort her.

*

_I was threatened by an anonymous but alluring pirate to point out that she would slit the throat of anyone who crossed her path and dared to mention this moment of desperation in her life. I said it didn’t make her desperate. Vulnerability is part of being human. She laughed in my face and told me this was why the Qunari had come so far._

_Isabela generally favours sharing the intimate details of one kind in any records. She says it’s her way of giving back to the world. When I asked her about how she felt after learning that Clarissa was leaving, she described an erotic and acrobatic scenario between her, three elves and a shapeshifter._

_“You don’t know that it didn’t happen.”_

_“Isabela…”_

_“It’s a far more interesting tale.”_

_“How about this. You tell me the truth, and I’ll write a spin-off of your other…exploits.”_

_“Or I could just tug you off right here.”_

_I’d be lying if I said the proposition didn’t appeal. But that wasn’t why I was here. She gave me her most withering look, and began recounting the events as they truly occurred. I suppose she felt she owed me._

*

There was a quiet knock on the door.

Naishe didn’t answer.

Another knock.

“Fuck. Off.”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Naishe cursed again and stomped over to the door to swing it open. “What the fuck do you want?”

To her surprise, Thir Pluret was looking up at her, unmoved by her teared-stained cheeks. “We had a lesson scheduled for ten minutes ago.”

Naishe glared at him and turned away. “You can shove your lessons right up your-”

“Grass.”

“What?”

“Grass. Sugargrass from the south. Mix that with the syrup of a eucalyptus plant and it is said to cure all bad dreams.”

Naishe stared incredulously at his pensive eyes. “Thank you for your contribution. Please leave me alone.”

Thir didn’t move. “It is not nightmares that plague you?”

Naishe huffed and crossed her arms, “Not unless I’m about to wake up.”

He seemed to consider her for a while, then said, “When a knight encounters a dragon, he may either hide from it and live in fear of exposure, or slay it.”

“Urgh!” Naishe rolled her eyes. “Just because you used a metaphor doesn’t mean it solves any problems.”

“You are troubled.”

“Excellent observation.” She couldn’t help looking into his milky white eyes. They seemed to stare right through her.

“You have lost something very dear to you.”

Naishe blew air between her teeth in exasperation. The dwarf couldn’t take a hint.

“Will you hide from the demons which have stolen from you, or slay them?”

“Tell me if I’m pronouncing this correctly; Fuck. Off.”

Again, Thir seemed to be deep in contemplation.

“Sometimes it is during loss that we find who we truly are.”

Naishe didn’t want to hear this right now. It was all too soon. Too fresh in her mind. All this talk of loss was making a lump form in her throat. She shook her head.

Thir shuffled forwards, gazing up at her. “Every moment is a lesson, Naishe.”

“You’ve said that a hundred times.” She felt the fight draining out of her and went to slump down in the chair by her desk. “Fat lot of good it’s done.”

“Perhaps you have not been paying attention.”

“Yeah, yeah. Every moment is a lesson. Learn from your mistakes. Blah blah.” She frowned, “Well this isn’t a fucking fairy tale. I’m not about to learn the true meaning of friendship and honesty. She’s gone because of me. _I_ screwed up. _I_ made the mistake. The only thing I’ve learned is that I can’t help anyone. I’m useless.”

Again, that infuriating pause. “We are not responsible for anyone but ourselves, Naishe.” Thir spoke very slowly, choosing each word with great care. “You can choose to be free or you can choose to be saddled with the world’s problems.”

That surprised Naishe. She had expected him to tell her how important it was to care for others. To try, always to try. “Do you honestly believe that?”

“No. But you do.”

Well, that was one way of looking at it. Of everyone she’d met in Antiva, she hadn’t expected Thir to so closely understand what she was feeling. How trapped she was. She wondered…How was she meant to live freely whilst stuck here with Luis? And without Clarissa? She was one of the only things that had made this life bearable. Naishe felt fresh tears leaking down her face. She felt hopeless. “And which one means slaying the dragon?”

“That, you have to find out yourself.”

“Figures…” She rubbed her eyes, grateful for once that Thir couldn’t see her tears.

As if on cue, Thir walked over to the desk, retrieved a bottle from inside his cloak and held it out to her.

“Seriously?”

“An occasional necessity. I once met a young man who fancied himself a magician. He was no mage, but he could turn a few simple tricks well enough to please a crowd. He made quite a name for himself in parts of Orlais. But as his popularity grew, more mages came to watch his shows. They knew him no sorcerer, and would interfere with his tricks. He had to start asking them not to attend. His credibility was lapsing. They said they found it insulting that he was trying to be something he wasn’t. Ultimately, he was just an entertainer.”

“What does this have to do with me?”

“The magician learned to dull the pain in a way no magic can rival. Drink.”

“Oh.” She took the bottle and pulled out the cork. The smell stung her nostrils. She took a sip and recoiled. The alcohol was spicy and burned her throat. “Eugh. I hate cinnamon.” She offered the bottle back to him. “So you think I should only worry about myself and sit around in this house, drinking to an early grave?”

The dwarf motioned his head in a way that was neither a nod nor a shake. He did not take the bottle and remarked, “You speak as though you were born in Ferelden. I believe our lessons will soon draw to a close.”

“You really know how to cheer a girl up…” Naishe placed the drink on the desk and looked at the ground. She felt strange. She hadn’t really paid much attention to her progress during their lessons together. She hadn’t realised how quickly her Rivaini accent had started ebbing away.

For the first time ever, Thir touched her. It was only a pat on her leg, but it felt significant. “Don’t stay in here all day. You like being outside. She’d want you to do something you liked.”

A conflicted Naishe watched the dwarf hobbled out of her bedroom, leaving her to her thoughts.


	21. Interim

She knew the assassin was purposefully dawdling. He could be there in seconds if he really wanted to, or so he claimed. Naishe was pacing her room impatiently when at last she heard a quiet knock on the door.

Zevran had barely closed the door when Naishe was on him. She clawed at his armour with ferocity. The fact that he’d bothered to wear it at all irritated her. He should know it would merely be another barrier between her and what she wanted. Selfish really. His knives clattered to the floor and his chest leathers soon followed suit. Her intensity was infectious.

The shirtless Zevran lifted her off the ground, allowing her to wrap her legs around his waist and kiss him hungrily. He tangled one still gauntleted hand in her hair and squeezed her ass with the other. Their kisses were hard and fast as ever, their tongues fighting to dominate the other. He carried her to her bed and dropped her onto it. Naishe made to pull him down with her, but he remained standing.

“Happy to see me?” he unbuckled his belt and let it slide onto the floor.

“You have no idea.” She was giving him the pouty, heavily-lidded fuck-me look that made him hard. Her eyes dipped down to his breeches.

Zevran smiled. “And what is it you want?”

Amber eyes returned to his, “I want you to fuck me, Zevran.”

_I want you to fuck me until I forget all this._

It had been two months since Clarissa’s departure. Naishe’s devastation had turned to anger. Anger had turned to a numb indifference. Now, she suffered through the monotony of each day.

The assassin’s breaths were already heavy. He made a low guttural growl in assent and undid the buttons of his breeches. His manhood sprung out. Naishe began to pull the ends of her dress up her thigh but Zevran shook his head. He yanked her up by the shoulder, and pulled her head towards his legs. She didn’t need telling twice. Naishe took Zevran in her mouth. She licked the base of his cock and moved her tongue up and down his shaft. The sucking was fast and sloppy. Naishe wasted no time building up a steady rhythm. She wanted to drive him into a frenzy. It worked.

Zevran closed his eyes and let out a prolonged “Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck.” He pulled her bobbing head closer towards him until she could hardly breathe. Her teeth brushed against his shaft and he groaned again. He felt electric. His heartbeat was pounding in his eardrums. The only things heard from the bedroom were the sounds of Naishe’s sucking and Zevran’s ecstatic moans.

She felt his body tense and jerk as he came. In her. On her. Messy and loud. The way she liked it. Naishe leant back against the bed after he had finished, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Zevran’s eyes were still closed and he was panting.

“Does this mean I’m going to have to do myself as well?”

Zevran shot her a dark animalistic look. He was drained, for now.

Naishe shrugged. She knew how to play this game. She let a hand drift slowly down her chest, over her breasts, along her abdomen and finally rest between her legs. She was wet already. Seeing him like this only made her wetter. She started rubbing herself gently. Zevran’s gaze was locked on her.

After a minute, her breaths became short and laboured. Her fingers disappeared inside herself. She murmured Zevran’s name with closed eyes. When she opened them, he was hard again. He shot her a dark feral look.

“You’re mine.”

His body was instantly against hers, warm and hard. His kisses sent a charge through her like her nerves were exposed. Naishe dragged her tongue along his tattoos, tasting the tang of sweat. When his hands reached her breasts, they became possessive and rough. He was completely unyielding, and it was driving her crazy. She dug her nails into his toned back and took his earlobe in her teeth, eliciting a loud groan of approval.

They wanted to take each other apart. Even when he’d torn the clothes from her, he seemed unsatisfied. He wanted to strip her to the bone. Their kisses were so hard they left each other’s mouths raw. Naishe couldn’t get enough. She wanted it rougher. Harder.

Zevran turned her around to face the bed. Naishe obligingly got onto her hands and knees, aching for him. She gasped when he thrust into her, unravelling completely. He gripped her hips and she felt his stomach tighten against her back. Naishe felt her hands and knees going numb as he fucked her. They were coming apart inside. A crescendo of grunts echoed from Zevran as he thrust into her, harder and harder. Her fingers clawed at the sheets, her body utterly helpless. She felt his teeth on her shoulder. One of his hands groped at her breast, then travelled down to her thighs. He plunged his fingers inside of Naishe and pulled her against him even more, fucking her deeper and deeper, almost until it hurt. The intensity was so fierce she was barely aware of anything anymore. She was full to her core. Her whimpers spurred Zevran on.

“Fuck me Zevran. Maker, fuck me. Please. Please.” A string of Rivaini profanities escaped her mouth, but Naishe barely realised. Her tense numb body slapped against his. Thy felt each other’s sweat. Each other’s want. “Please don’t stop.”

Zevran’s body felt like an exposed nerve. His eyes were fixed on the woman in front of him. She was utterly vulnerable. Completely in his control. When at last his came again, one arm was around Naishe’s waist, the other around her neck. His sweat-slicked chest rose and fell with heavy gasps against her.

Eventually, they collapsed against the bed. Naishe hadn’t come, but she didn’t care. She’d got what she wanted.

They basked in the afterglow for a while, but Naishe’s thoughts soon moved elsewhere. Her eyes moved to the sunlight streaming through her windows.

Zevran could sense a change in Naishe’s mood. “Is everything alright?”

Naishe was silent for a while. Eventually…“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

The elf’s face betrayed the faintest hint of concern.

“Do you ever…Do you think it’s possible to miss something you’ve never had?”

“Certainly,” Zevran remarked. “Not a day goes by that I don’t regret bedding that handsome Ferelden prince. We exchanged pleasantries whilst his guardsmen arrested me.”

Naishe was still looking out the window.

“You meant something else.”

Naishe made a non-committal noise. “I just…is this it? Is this all I’m going to have to look forward to for the rest of my life?”

“Mmm…yes. Stroke my ego some more.”

“Zev.”

“Apologies.” He sat up. “You are not enjoying your life in Antiva?”

The Rivaini sighed. “I don’t know what it is…I have everything I could possibly want. I’ll never need to beg or bargain or steal _anything_. Most people would kill for a life like this.”

“You don’t like having everything served up on a silver platter?”

Naishe shrugged. “It’s more than that. I don’t feel like I’m living. Just existing. These moments-” she gestured to him, “-are the only time I feel alive.”

“Well, if it’s a case of living,” Zevran’s hand brushed up her spine, “I can go all night…”

Naishe shook her head and he let the hand drop. She smiled a little. “Would you believe me if I said I was bored?”

“Having everything you could ever want must be _so_ tiresome.”

“I’m serious. I have free reign as long as I stay inside the house, or at least until one of his guests needs ‘entertaining’. And I can’t set foot outside without babysitters. Ugh. I _hate_ being at his beck and call like this. I can’t make any decisions around here. I can’t even go with him on trips. At least I could go where I wanted in Rivain. My mother never cared. I could be gone for days and she wouldn’t look for me.”

“Is that what you’d like? To return to Rivain?”

Naishe wasn’t so sure. “Maybe. I don’t know. Mother wouldn’t exactly be waiting for me.” The idea of returning to the Qunari-infested peninsula grew less attractive by the second. Llomerryn had always been fun though. A thought occurred to her. “Do you get to travel much?”

“Me? Well, only if the job requires it. Not much time for free-lancing. Why do you-?” he twigged what she was getting at. “No.”

“Oh come on.”

“Not happening.”

“I’d make a _great_ assassin.”

“You have a face that is difficult to refuse, but alas, it cannot be.”

Naishe shoved him lightly. “I already know a bit of fighting and you _know_ I’m a fast learner.”

Zevran grimaced. “Antivan Crows are trained from the age of five. They’d never consider someone so…mature starting from scratch. I’m sorry.”

The Rivaini slumped her shoulders, visions of Naishe the Antivan Crow disappearing from her mind. “Balls.”

“I’m sure, with enough persuasion, your husband would agree to take you on his trips so you can see the world. He is a very rich man.”

Naishe snorted. “He isn’t my husband, he’s my owner. Luis wouldn’t know autonomy if it hit him in the face.”

“Someone’s got a problem with authority.”

“ _Zev_.”

A cat-like grin adorned his face, but he said nothing.

“A little freedom. That’s all I want.”

“Just a little?” This all sounded far too familiar. As Naishe had probably guessed, she wasn’t the first wife of Lord Mali-Kricco. Zevran had encountered the previous bride in passing. Similar to Naishe in appearance and she’d also shared her disinterest in the life of leisure Luis was offering. Zevran didn’t know what happened to her, but knew better than to ask.

Naishe shrugged again. “If you don’t like the story, rip out the pages and write it yourself. That’s what my mother used to say.”

“Wise woman.”

“Not wise enough.” Naishe used her fingers to mimic horns on either side of her head.

Zevran let the conversation drop. He didn’t have many words of comfort to offer her.

Eventually, a smile returned to Naishe’s face. It didn’t quite reach her eyes, but the elf didn’t push it. “Me, me, me. You must be terribly bored. Tell me how things have been going for you, Zev.”

“Where to even begin?” He lay back against the sheets, eyes on her. “I have this terrible pain in my body.”

“Is that right?”

“Perhaps you could help me with it.”

“Here?”

“Not quite.”

“Here?”

“A little lower.”

“How about…”

“Ooooo…”


	22. Past-time

Naishe’s husband, lord of tact, had been spending an increasing amount of time with the best that Antiva City’s red lantern district had to offer. He would invite them in groups in the evenings and Naishe would see them trickle out of the house the next day. Sometimes they were for Luis and his cronies, sometimes just for him. Naishe noticed that there tended to be a lot of tall slender elven men and curvy dark-skinned women. The Rivaini didn’t care. Luis could sleep with whomever he liked. The more time he was occupied, the more time Naishe had for Zevran. Their activities also exceeded the vows Luis and Naishe had sworn a long time ago.

Very occasionally, Luis would go to Naishe for his desires to be sated. She always put in as little effort as possible. Never making any noise except to tsk when she felt he had been taking too long. It wasn’t something she felt she could fight. A necessary evil. She let him have his way, a grunting uncomfortable affair, but not one that lasted very long. It only tended to happen once every few weeks now.

As promised, Naishe’s lessons with Thir had ended. Luis remarked on how ‘proper’ she sounded. Whilst it was irritating coming from Luis, she didn’t really mind the change. It felt like she was freeing herself from everything that had gone wrong in her life. All the choices she hadn’t had in Rivain; now she could start afresh.

Zevran had been kind enough to tell her that her blade skills were almost amateurish.

Naishe slapped the back of his head, “Shut up.”

The elf chuckled, tossed his golden hair out of his face, and assumed a fighting stance. “Okay beautiful. Take me down.”

Naishe raised her knives and adopted the same stance. They circled each other in the courtyard of the estate. Naishe focussed on Zevran’s right shoulder and she swiped to the left. Zevran dodged easily. She lunged forward again at his neck and heard the clang of metal on metal.

The assassin was leaning backwards to block her attack, so Naishe swept her foot underneath his feet to unbalance him. Zevran was too quick for her and jumped over her feet. He pretended to yawn and quickly side-stepped another jab. Naishe launched herself into the air at him. Zevran had taught her a jump-and-spin to throw all her weight on the attacker. He brought his knives up just in time to form an X over his face. The impact knocked him backwards, but Zevran recovered quickly and went on the offensive. He rolled forwards and brought his foot upwards into her stomach.

Naishe staggered backwards, winded. The Antivan sprung up and grabbed Naishe’s wrist, twisting one of her daggers out of her grip and tossing it to the side. Naishe, rattled, grabbed the front of Zevran’s shirt and slammed her forehead into his. It wasn’t something Zevran had taught her; back alley brawls in Rivain were to thank. Zevran was caught off guard and heavily dazed. Naishe was also a little stunned and swiped clumsily with her remaining weapon.

“Shit…” groaned Zevran.

Naishe rallied and twisted the elf’s arm behind his back.

It managed to make him wince, but Zevran hooked his foot around Naishe’s ankle and kicked forward. She slipped backwards and hit the ground with a thud. Zevran span around and rested a knee on Naishe’s chest.

He held a knife to her throat and said, “I w-”

The pinned Rivaini grabbed hold of Zevran’s crotch and squeezed hard. Zevran yelped but Naishe just kept squeezing, an amused glint in her eye. He jerked backwards and Naishe brought her other fist into his cheek. It wasn’t a very strong punch, but it managed to throw Zevran off her enough that she could scramble to her feet and kick dust in his face. This time, _Naishe_ pretended to yawn.

The assassin was not about to be beaten so easily. He flipped from his back onto his feet and performed an aggressive dual sweep with his daggers. He missed Naishe by inches. A flurry of knife attacks flew at her. All the while, Naishe was doing her best to dodge and duck her way out of the elf’s advances. He was backing her into the corner of the courtyard.

Zevran threw something at the ground and became encircled in a cloud of smoke. He was soon entirely shrouded, leaving a coughing Naishe clueless to his whereabouts.

The smoke cleared and Naishe felt a blade press against her neck.

A low voice tutted in her ear, “I thought you had more in you.”

Naishe rolled her eyes, “Say that again and I’ll pull out all that pretty hair you love so much.”

Zevran sniggered and returned his knives to their scabbards.

Naishe turned and watched him pick some dust out of his eye.

“You didn’t play fair.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Since when was knife fighting about playing fair?”

“Hardly any of what you did could be considered knife fighting, tesoro…”

Naishe shrugged. “The world doesn’t obey the rules.”

“Spoken like a true philosopher,” Zevran said sarcastically.

The Rivaini went to gather her lost weapon but Zevran stopped her.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Naishe faced him again, “Here?”

He nodded. “I won. You know the rules.”

Naishe made a point of rolling her eyes again as she pulled the shirt she was wearing over her head. She kicked off her shoes and threw the trousers she had ‘borrowed’ from Luis at Zevran’s feet.

They fucked against the wall leaving Naishe with scrapes and bruises across her back. They had given up on being careful a long time ago.

*

_“Zevran was…a good teacher?”_

_“He liked to think so. But for the love of Andraste’s perky little nipples, don’t write that, or if you do at least change his name. I’ll never hear the end of it otherwise.”_

_“Big ego?”_

_“Among other things…” Isabela smirked._

_I cleared my throat awkwardly. “So…you reckon you could beat him in a fight now?”_

_She snorted, “An owl in a body cast could beat Zev. Leave_ that _in.”_

*

After Zevran had left, Naishe asked one of the maids to draw her a bath so she could clean the dust from her skin and hair. She asked the maid whether she knew anything of Clarissa’s whereabouts. She’d been doing it nearly every day. Whilst Naishe had taken on Thir’s advice to move on, she couldn’t wipe the woman from her mind.

The maid said she didn’t know anything. Naishe thanked her for the bath and soaked in it a while, thinking. Luis might know. And even if he didn’t, he surely had the resources to find out.

She slipped on a silk dressing gown and went to his bedroom. She knocked on the door, figuring if she fucked him, he might be more forthcoming with the information she needed. There was no answer, but Naishe could hear murmuring from the other side. She opened the door. If he were with another whore, she didn’t mind interrupting them. As it happened, she was wrong.

Luis was stood with his back to door, his head tilted to the side. Naishe could see his reflection in the window. His face was nothing but bliss. His eyes were shut.

Naishe was shocked to see none another than Hamaal on his knees, her husband’s cock in his mouth. The Rivaini cleared her throat loudly.

Luis’ eyes shot open and he span around, bewildered.

“Am I interrupting?”

He hastily did up his trousers.

Hamaal had turned as red as a tomato and was staring at the floor.

“What the-? Shouldn’t you be-?” Luis blustered.

Naishe feigned innocence. “I was just coming to see my _wonderful_ loving husband.”

Luis smoothed his hair and huffed. His embarrassment was slowly turning into anger. “What do you want?” he said shortly.

“Did I mention loyal?” Naishe wanted to make him suffer for as long as possible. Hypocrisy be damned.

The Antivan huffed again, making his huge stomach wobble. “What do you want?”

“Maybe I should come back when he’s finished you off?” She knew she was letting herself get carried away. She felt bad for Hamaal. The chance of this being an arrangement of mutual affections was slim at best.

“Enough!” Luis shouted. “Either tell me why you came in here or get out.”

_No ‘princess’ this time._

“I want to know where you sent Clarissa. I want to…” Naishe’s voice faltered a little, “…write to her.”

This clearly wasn’t what Luis was expecting. His anger temporarily changed to confusion. “You want to write to the servant girl?”

Naishe nodded, “You must have sent her somewhere.” She let remnants of hope colour her voice.

“I told her to leave. I didn’t send her anywhere.” Luis shrugged, disinterested by the request. “She could be anywhere.”

Naishe walked forward. “But surely you have some way of finding her? You have messengers. Friends in other cities. She’s probably heading to the Free-”

“And how would that benefit me?” He shook his head, dismissing the idea entirely. “Why do you _want_ to contact her?”

“She…” Naishe hoped Luis would see the forlorn expression as endearing rather than pathetic, “She was my friend. I miss her.”

Apparently, the latter. “Make new friends.” Luis gestured at the door for her to leave.

Naishe glared at him, “And how am I supposed to do that when you barely let me go outside alone?”

“I introduce you to people all the time.”

“You introduce me to _your_ friends. Creepy old farts who’d sooner see me naked than have a conversation.” Anger was growing inside Naishe now. This was so typical of him. The one thing she actually wanted. The one person in Luis’ house that she liked. And he wouldn’t let her. She felt like a kid being denied sweets, and hated him for making her feel that way.

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” he snapped, making Hamaal jump.

“I’m not a fucking beggar,” Naishe growled. She knew that was exactly how Luis saw her. How noble he was to rescue her from the poverty of her former life. The dashing Antivan noble who could have chosen any woman seeing the beauty in a lucky Rivaini peasant.

Luis’ voice grew louder, “Then why do you come here asking for favours? Why can’t you do anything yourself?”

Was he serious? “How am I supposed to find her myself? When I’m not living under house arrest I’m not allowed to set foot outside the city.” Naishe’s voice was rising as well.

Her husband gave her a very cruel smile and said, “I wish you would use this much energy in bed.”

Naishe couldn’t believe her ears, “You’re not even worth the breath...”

The Antivan actually had the audacity to laugh. “Maybe if you did I’d be more inclined to consider your request. A pity…”

It was just as well Naishe didn’t have knives in her hands any more. Lives would have been lost. She gritted her teeth and said, “If you just want some girl to lay there with her legs open, buy one.”

“I bought you.”

That shut her up. Luis might as well have slapped her across the face.

Before she could protest any more, Luis shoved her out of his bedroom and slammed the door in her face.

Naishe was so angry that her nails were cutting into her palms. Blood dripped onto the floor.

*

The next day, Naishe descended the stairs to see Luis saddling up his horse. He was joined by a few of his guards.

He must have sensed her presence, because without looking he said, “I’m leaving for Ferelden this afternoon. I’ll return in a fortnight.”

“You’re going to Ferelden?”

“Yes.” Luis gave her a contemptuous glance, “I would’ve asked you to accompany me, but I couldn’t tolerate any more of your whining. A shame really. You could have met some Orlesian royalty.”

Naishe stared at him incredulously.

Luis snapped his fingers and a guard immediately grabbed her arm and took her back to her room.

Naishe was seething.

True to his word, her husband left soon after lunch for Ferelden. Whilst he was away, he had instructed his house guards to keep a watchful eye on Naishe. She couldn’t step outside without one of them seeing. Couldn’t go into the city without company. They claimed it was for her ‘protection’ but Naishe knew it was just Luis’ way of ensuring she didn’t cause trouble.

Luis’ plan almost worked. Whilst her movements outside were restricted, Naishe had a lot more freedom inside the mansion. She moved the furniture into bizarre places and positions in several rooms. The dining room, the ballroom, the parlour, Luis’s bedroom. She didn’t touch the servants’ quarters; they had done nothing to wrong her. Only _he_ deserved punishment. She overturned cabinets and hung pieces of Luis’ clothing from various chandeliers. She piled books from the library on top of each other to form a big middle finger by the entrance. All of the paintings in his bedroom were replaced by crudely drawn images of knights fucking dragons and women in cages. She painted hundreds of eyes onto his mirror and left pieces of meat in his study for flies to gather. She bought a mabari and let it trample mud everywhere the day before Luis was due to return, asking the servants not to clean anything up.

When Luis returned and was greeting by an obscene hand gesture, paw prints and his mattress on top of the stable roof, he headed straight for Naishe’s bedroom.

She was lounging on her bed, flicking through a book on magic and arcana.

“What the _fuck_ have you done to my home?!”

She held out a finger whilst she dog-eared one of the pages, then smiled sweetly back at him. “Darling. You’re home. How was your trip?”

He stormed into the room, “There is a dog loose in my home. My piano is in the bath. My wine has been replaced by radishes. There is lard in my shoes. The horses nearly broke all the plates because you lined the stables with fucking crockery!”

Naishe merely blinked.

“What do you have to say for yourself!?”

The Rivaini stretched lazily and sat up a little. “I’d say this is what happens when a girl gets bored…You know. Stuck inside. Nothing to do…”

“This is unacceptable.” He pointed a fat finger in her face, “If you ever do anything like this again I’ll make you regr-”

“Fascinating.” Naishe got off the bed and swaggered over to the door. She looked at Luis expectantly, “Now would you mind? I was in the middle of something.”

Something snapped in Luis’s head because he charged forward and bundled her against the wall.

Spittle and loud pants hit Naishe’s face. She was alarmed. Luis was never this violent with her. She stared him down, daring him to act.

He seemed to calm himself quickly. He let go of Naishe and took a few steps back. “You’ll miss dinner tonight,” and with that, he left.

He left the room so quickly that the end of Naishe’d dress caught on the door as it slammed. She heard a loud rip and saw that it had torn all the way up to her waist.

On the other side of the wall, Luis locked her bedroom door.

A barking dog could be heard downstairs.


	23. Shipwrecked

Naishe awoke to find she’d fallen asleep against the door. She stretched and immediately groaned. Her neck was very stiff. Unwelcome memories of the previous night returned to her as she got off the floor. She must have been thinking about their fight and nodded off.

“Bastard…” she caught her reflection in the mirror and glowered. The tear in her dress was beyond repair. Naishe let it fall to the ground. Even the rags were probably worth a fortune.

A loud knock on the door alerted her to Luis’ presence. Naishe didn’t know why her jailor had bothered with the courtesy of a knock after he’d locked her in. The door latch clicked and he strode into the room with something under his arm.

Naishe crossed her arms over her breasts and continued to glare.

“There she is. My princess. A shining light of beauty.”

“Drop dead.”

The smile on Luis’ face remained and he closed the gap between them to kiss her.

Naishe turned her head so he only got her cheek.

“I think it only right that I apologise. We both let our tempers get the better of use last night and I’m sure we both regret it.”

Was he seriously trying to shift some of the blame onto her? Naishe took the sheet from her bed and wrapped it around herself. She didn’t want to let Luis enjoy any of this.

“Can I at least see a smile?”

“I want to write to my friend. Tell me where she is.”

Luis’ smile flickered ever so slightly, irritation forming again in his eyes. “I have something for you. A gift.”

He held out the folds of cloth under his arm. It was another dress, even more bejewelled and impressive than the last. It came with a hideous feathered headpiece that would have to be clipped to her hair.

“I assumed you’d need a replacement after what you did to the last one…” He nudged the remains of the other dress with his foot.

“Burn it. I’d sooner wear this bed sheet for the rest of my life.”

Her husband started to chuckle, but the look in his eyes was dangerous. “You’ll look ravishing in this. The streets of the city will be lined with admirers when they catch one glimpse of you. Put it on.” Luis held the dress out to her.

“There won’t _be_ any admirers because you don’t let me go outside.”

“Don’t get hysterical Naishe. Please, put the dress on. For me.”

“Where’s Clarissa?”

“Put. It. On.”

“I want to write to her.”

“Now!”

His yell made her jump but she continued to stare at him defiantly.

The disobedience caused Luis’ face to fill with so much fury that she was genuinely afraid he was going to hit her. He dropped the second dress to the floor, the sudden movement making Naishe flinch, and went over to the window. A servant must have given Luis a set of keys, or maybe he always carried them around, because he locked the window shut.

“Until you stop acting like a spoilt brat,” he marched back to the door, “here is where you’ll stay. You can stay in your bedsheet all you like.”

The door slammed behind him and Naishe heard the click of the latch again. She felt tears in her eyes and blinked them away furiously, annoyed by her own weakness. This was supposed to be a life in paradise. How had it come to this? More to the point, how did she get out of it?

The latch was on a heavy spring that no picks could move, not that Luis had stocked her bedroom with lock picks. The Rivaini sunk to the ground once more, trying to wish herself away from this place.

She stayed in her room for four days. The only time the door unlocked was when servants brought her meals. They never said a word to her. Naishe ignored the food at first, but her resolve quickly melted. She was going stir crazy by the fourth evening in isolation. When a kind-faced girl called Lucie brought her dinner on the fourth day, she mentioned a festival of light happening in the city the very next day. Naishe was desperate to go outside and asked Lucie to tell Luis that she would wear his bloody dress if it meant being allowed out of her bedroom. Luis dutifully agreed and had Lucie unlock her bedroom door and window the next morning for good.

Naishe reluctantly donned the garment and accursed headpiece that’d caused so much trouble and silently hoped Luis would somehow catch fire at the festival. To her pleasant surprise, he was elsewhere that evening, but instructed a guard of four to follow her wherever she went. Naishe gritted her teeth when she heard this, but it was better than another day in her room.

The dog was gone.

Antiva City seemed to have transformed in the short time Naishe had been confined. Lanterns hung everywhere. Children painted huge suns on the ground. Fire-breathers performed incredible spectacles for throngs of people, a few of them dressed as dragons. The city had crammed hundreds of people in just for the festival. It was a hub of excitement. Many were wearing enchanted masks that gave off the illusion of being on fire. It was easy enough for Naishe to get one of the masks and lose her bodyguards in the crowd. Her outfit was still fairly conspicuous so she found a dress vendor and exchanged a few silvers for a plain white frock. In a quiet alley, she changed out of her glittering gown and into the plainer one. The headdress too was quickly removed. She pulled the clips free to fasten her long hair into a more manageable shape and gave Luis’ gifts to a street urchin. The little body couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Wow! Thanks!”

Naishe smiled at the boy then returned to the crowds.

She loved seeing the city like this. The people buzzed with joy as though everything in the world were perfect. A group of bards strummed cheerful melodies and members of the crowd soon began to dance. There were elderly couples dancing together like they’d fallen in love for the first time. There were young lovers swaying like nothing else in the world existed but them. There were children laughing and screaming. Whores pouting and posing. Sailors catcalling. Guards yelling. A brawl had even broken out. All this chaos. All this life.

Naishe felt flushed just looking at it.

One of the sailors spotted Naishe and pulled her into mass of dancing bodies. He was a handsome lad. Slightly overweight. Gorgeous smile. Naishe allowed him to dip and twirl her to no particular rhythm. Even fumbling the steps felt good. She felt free.

Naishe thanked the sailor for the dance and kissed him on the cheek. He returned to his cheering friends with a blush on his face.

Naishe decided she wanted to see the festival from above. A path to an upper level of the city branched off towards a sort of overhang near the cliffs. Pulses of light emanated from Antiva City like a heartbeat. The Rivaini heard sound of drums getting closer. She watched the crowd part to reveal a dragon. It startled her, but she quickly saw the people underneath it, holding it up on poles. A mage was leading the procession with an orb of light in front of her. The dragon made sinuous, undulating movements as it approached the harbour. When it reached the water, the crowd hushed. A wave rippled through the dragon and a loud roar rocked the city. A plume of fire burst from its mouth that transfigured into a thousand burning dragonflies. They circled the oooing crowing. It was mesmerising. The mage looked satisfied with her handiwork and was met with whoops and applause. There was so much vitality in the air. The Festival of Light had a religious origin, but had now become a celebration for all to revel in. Antivans needed no excuse to start a party.

Naishe caught herself beaming.

“…fucking twats! I’ll cut those fucking horns off and shove ‘em straight up yer arse!”

The sound was coming from along the overhang. Naishe, startled, decided to find the source of the noise and made her way towards a big dark square that seemed to be what was voicing the profanity.

“Just wait ‘til I get my hands on you ya ‘spawn-faced turd!”

“Good evening.”

“Ah! Back for more eh? Let me out of this cage and I’ll make ya wish yer’d never been born! Then I’ll find ya missus and give ‘er a good, long, eye-watering-”

“I don’t think I’m who you think I am.” Naishe stepped closer, and could now see the square was a steel cage. Its inhabitant looked furious.

“Who the fuck are you?!”

“A visitor.” Squinting through the dark, Naishe could make out a pasty man with a tangle of thick blonde hair. His beard seemed to be caught in the hinge of the cage door, so he stood at an awkward angle, his face bent up. He was bleeding from his nose and right arm. The flesh around one of his eyes was swollen and purple. To Naishe’s surprise, another man was sat cross-legged in the cage as well. His eyes were closed. He surely couldn’t be sleeping through this racket.

The bloodshot eye of the scrawnier man bulged at her, “Come teh gloat ‘ave ya!? What’s a bawbag-muching, shit-gobbler like you got to be interested in the likes o’ me?”

The man’s accent suggested he was from Starkhaven. He was a long way from home. Naishe grinned, “Just curious how and why you ended up in there. I thought the prison was outside the city.”

“Prison? Ha!” the man spat at the ground. “Ox-face cow-fucker caught us rootin’ around ‘is valuables. If you can call ‘em that. All ‘e ‘ad were twenty gold and a big fuck-off axe.”

“Ox-face? You mean a Qunari put you in this cage?”

“Aye. Says ‘e got plans to take us back to Rivain. I’d like to see ‘im try, the shit-stained-”

“You’re to be viddathari?” Naishe suddenly pitied the man.

He growled, “Fat fucking chance. I’ll skin the cunt raw before ‘e conscripts me.”

Naishe considered the men for a moment. She had a lot of sympathy for them. A life in the Qun was no life at all.

“Boss! You seeing this? Get a load o’ that rack.”

The other man did not stir.

Naishe smirked, “Priorities?”

“Well are ya going ta stand around gawping or are ya gonna bust us out?”

“I’ll get you out,” Naishe decided, “if I can.”

The man grinned. He was missing several of his teeth. “Good answer. Fucker’s got th’ only keys though.”

Naishe smiled. “I don’t need keys.”

Hari had made sure her daughter would never be bested by a locked door. “Deft hands, fine tools, and a sharp tongue doesn’t hurt either” as she used to say. Naishe just needed to find something small enough to pick the cage lock. She wasn’t exactly equipped for the situation. The thinking was making her head hurt. She actually felt like it was rubbing against her temples.

“Wait a minute…” The clips in her hair. Naishe removed them pulling out several hairs in the process. The clips were long and spindly. They might just do it.

“Take yer fucking time!”

Naishe made an exasperated sigh, “Me. Helping you escape. You. Shut it.”

“Bah…”

She knelt down by the cage lock, clips at the ready.

“‘ell of a view from ‘ere!” The prisoner’s good eye was looking down at Naishe’s cleavage.

Fortunately, the cage bars were wide and the man’s crotch was within punching level.

He squeaked.

Naishe poked one of the clips through the lock and twiddled it experimentally. The cage seemed a bit flimsy, only meant for short-term use. The lock was fairly weak. She pushed another clip into the keyhole and twisted it to the side.

Finally, the second man opened his eyes. He said nothing, merely watching Naishe work.

Several minutes passed before finally they heard a satisfying click. Naishe stood and pulled the cage door open.

The Starkhaven man leapt out the cage with glee and stretched his neck with a sigh. “Ahhhh that’s better. Been lookin at the same patch o’ ground fer’hours.”

The second man stepped out. He was taller than his friend. Fatter too. He had long copper hair and a beard to match. He was in considerably better shape than the other man. No bruises to speak of, just a broken nose. He extended his hand to Naishe who took it.

“Thank you. You’ve done use a great service.” He sounded like he might have been Antivan. There was a tattoo on his wrist of a skull. Naishe was certain she’d seen it before, but couldn’t think where. It looked like an insignia of some kind.

“I’ll say. ‘at fucker woulda ‘ad us on some leash barkin like a dog by mornin’.”

The Rivaini chuckled, “It’s no bother. I won’t lose any sleep from ridding the Qunari of another slave.”

“Speaking of the Qunari…” The copper-haired man shot a warning look over Naishe’s shoulder.

“Teth a!”

“Oh tits.”

The familiar silhouette of the Qunari jailor was approaching them, sword drawn.

The Starkhaven man looked to his friend. “Kirkwall routine?”

“Kirkwall routine,” the copper-haired man replied.

The two men looked back to the Qunari. They sprinted forward, screaming.

The Qunari, mildly taken aback, swung his sword through the air with a roar.

The blonde man jumped over the blade with practiced ease. His fellow captive ducked and threw himself at the Qunari’s feet. It didn’t knock the Qunari over, but he did stumble forward. He jabbed his sword at the one who’d tackled him but the other man grabbed him by the horns forcing his head backwards.

“Katara, bas!”

Naishe, thoroughly entertained by the display, dashed forward. The Qunari was clawing at the man behind him, and she was able to twist the sword out of his grasp the way Zevran had taught her. She clenched the sword in both hands and brought the pommel slamming down on the Qunari’s head. It only seemed to daze him, so Naishe hit him again. The Qunari slumped to the ground, blood oozing from his forehead.

The two men got to their feet, the blonde one having been crushed by the body of the Qunari. He brushed himself off, spit on the Qunari’s face and said, “Pretty _and_ good in a fight. Nae that _is_ a deadly combination.”

A smirk formed on Naishe’s face. “Kirkwall routine?”

“Blind luck.” The other man nudged the blonde, “Let’s go. He’ll likely have friends come looking soon.”

“Awww…Come on Captain. She looks like she could use a-”

“A woman as beautiful as she is can set her sights far higher than you.”

The Starkhaven man rolled his eyes and gave Naishe a salute. “I ‘ope this isn’t our last meeting, hen.”

Naishe sniggered, “It’s been a pleasure.”

Rather than going the way Naishe had come, he approached the side of the overhang by the cliff and started to descend.

The other man took Naishe’s free hand in his for a second time and kissed it, “I owe you my life.”

Naishe grinned, “A bit overdramatic don’t you think?”

He smiled a little, “Not all pirates are without honour, my beauty.”

“You’re a pirate?”

The man smiled, “Captain Dante Calico, at your service.”

The blonde friend called back, “Bolt, ya mangled fud, before that cock-sucker comes back!”

“Ah, Casavir. Such a poet.” Calico bowed, “Forgive me. I must go,” and with that he turned and made his swift escape.

Naishe watched on, a wave of serenity washing over her. The evening had put her in a good mood. She looked down at the unconscious Qunari and felt a sense of justice. This was payback, as insignificant as it might be.

She heard footsteps jogging towards her and looked to see the bodyguards she’d managed to lose earlier. Their scimitars were drawn.

“Lady Mali-Kricco! Are you alright?”

Naishe smiled, suddenly remembering she still had a sword in her hand. She shrugged and let the blade fall to the ground. “I think he tripped.”

The guards shot each other confused looks. They must have silently decided not to worry about the Qunari because one of them said, “We should take you back to the estate. Dangerous folk about.”

The Rivaini sighed but allowed them to escort her back to Luis’ home.

She was still thinking about the tattoo on Captain Calico’s wrist and went in search of the library. Shelves of books towered so high it was a wonder anyone paid them any notice. The room was octagonal and had many squashy chairs dotted around for reading. She ran her finger along the spines of hundreds of books. _Viktor’s Guide to Hunting Werewolves_ , _Meditations and Odes to Bees_ , _101 Nevarran Taverns to Avoid_ , _I Fell in Love with a Singing Tree: Wyatt’s Story_ , _The Legend of Calenhad_ , _Flora of the Western Approach_ , _Necromancy For Beginners_ , _The Noladar Anthology of Dwarven Poetry_ , _Highever_ , _High in Highever_ , _Ever Been High in Highever?_ , _An Interview with an Ash Wraith_ and many others. She had no luck in the geography section but stumbled across a thick tome entitled _From Noble to No-body: A Compendium of the Houses and Organisations of Thedas with Illustrations_. She flicked through the book with interested. There were the black wings of the Antivan Crow crest splashed across the page.

“Come on…” she found a cosy armchair facing away from the door and curled up in it with the book. “Skull skull skull…” She caught a flash of red when she was skimming through the Rs. There it was. A human skull with a slash of red over the eyes as though blindfolded.

_‘The Raiders of the Waking Sea, also known as The Felicisima Armada. Dating back as far as the Exalted Ages, The Raiders of the Waking Sea, or simply, ‘Raiders’, are known for thievery, looting, bootlegging, arson, apostasy, slave trade, murder and more. They rarely act within the legal parameters of any port or sea and a seldom known to cooperate with the authorities. They have been rumoured to be responsible for many maritime robberies and battles and have earned the reputation of treachery and deceit. They sail the waters freely and are the largest known association of pirates in Thedas.’_

_That’s_ why the insignia was so familiar. She had seen Raiders a lot in Rivain. Some of them wore the crest with pride. Others didn’t care.

Pirates. That word hung in Naishe’s mind for a while. So that man, what was his name, Calico? He’d been telling the truth. An actual pirate. And the other man. She wondered what their lives must be like. Breaking the law. Doing what they liked. Living as free men. She recalled the conversation she had had with the Montilyet’s. They had talked about the Raiders with everything from disgust to admiration. It made Naishe wonder…

She heard footsteps approaching the library and the familiar voice of her husband.

“…exactly like the real thing. We can make a tidy profit.” The sound of his boots squeaked into the room. Naishe’s chair was positioned in a way that hid her from view.

“That’s all very well but we mustn’t leave ourselves open to blackmail,” hissed the voice of Pravus Kamas. “I would not put it past him.”

“He’s an idiot that got lucky. If he’s smart, he’ll take the gold and retire to Orlais.”

“If he remains an idiot…”

“I’ll make sure he doesn’t. Besides, there are scarcely enough De la Dampierre’s left in Thedas. No one will go to the trouble of comparing these to the originals.”

Naishe heard Pravus sigh. “Well, on your own head. Remind him no canvas. Dampierre only used parchment.”

“Yes, Pravus. I’ll tell him.”

This business talk was unlike any she had heard in the past. It sounded like they were discussing counterfeits. Not just discussing, creating. Naishe was listening so intently to the conversation that she forgot all about the book in her hands. It slid out of her grasp and hit the floor with a dull thunk.

_Shit._

“What the-?”

There wasn’t any point hiding now. Naishe stood to face the two men.

“Naishe? You’re home.” Luis broke into a smile and went to kiss her.

“Yes.”

Pravus’ eyes goggled at her, his expression etched with suspicion.

When Luis straightened, he blinked. He looked Naishe up and down and narrowed his eyes. “What happened to your dress?”

The familiar feeling of irritation and resentment that Naishe had come to attribute with this place returned to her. “I…lost it.”

“You lost it.” Luis’ face was covered in disbelief.

Naishe merely nodded and crossed her arms.

“How did you come to lose the gift I _generously_ gave you and end up in…” he gestured at the plain white garment she was wearing. The scuffle with the Qunari had left it dusty.

The Rivaini shrugged non-committedly.

Anger was building behind Luis’ eyes. He turned his head to address Pravus. “You give a girl the world and she isn’t satisfied.”

Pravus gave him a look that said ‘I told you so’.

Naishe dearly wished she could make Luis understand that all this stuff was not the world. She’d trade it all in in a heartbeat for a chance to actually _see_ the world. She’d caught a glimpse of it tonight. Was he really going to punish her for losing a fucking dress?

“Please leave us,” Luis returned his gaze to Naishe.

Pravus nodded, shot one more look at Naishe and left the library, closing the door behind him.

“This disobedience will not continue. The acting out. The refusing to take a direct order. You need to learn your place in this house Naishe.”

_What, no princess this time?_

Naishe stared defiantly back at him, “My place? I am a person in case you’d forgotten. I’m allowed to have independence over my own life. My _place_ was supposed to be living by your side. You _said_ I was going to be your wife, not your property. You can’t just tell me how to live.”

As Naishe talked, the ire in Luis’ face built. “I’ve given you everything you could possibly want. You’re living like a queen! And you have the nerve to be ungrateful. Do you know how many people would _die_ to have your life?”

“Hundreds,” Naishe nodded feeling exasperated, “thousands. But I’m not one of them. I don’t want your fancy dresses. I never even wanted to _be_ here!”

“You spoilt little brat. Sometimes I don’t know why I bother.”

“Why _do_ you bother? We’d both be happier if I wasn’t here.” She looked at him imploringly, “Please. You could let me go. You could say I ran away. Or you could say you sold me off to one of your friends. I don’t care.”

He glared at her. “You stupid little girl. You really believe it’s that simple?”

Naishe was incredulous, “Why can’t it be?! I don’t want to live here! I don’t want to live here with you!”

“You don’t have a choice!”

The Rivaini’s shoulders slumped a little. “So that’s it, is it? That’s how this is going to be?”

Luis’ voice was a crescendo of rage, “I don’t have time to make your simple mind understand. I have a job to do. I’m _doing_ my job. My servants are out there doing _their_ jobs. The Crows are out there doing _their_ jobs. And it’s time now for you to do _yours_. You will do what I say. You will not question me. You will wear whatever I give you. You will meet my friends and smile and laugh and kiss cheeks and look pretty and you will stand with me and you will _be my wife_!” The last few words were roared at Naishe.

Naishe was stunned by this outburst but recovered quickly. She scowled at her husband and said, “I don’t have to do a fucking thing for you.”

There was a long pause before Luis said, “Take off your dress.”

Naishe scoffed, “Over my dead body.”

“Take off your dress,” he stepped closer to her and Naishe stepped back.

“No.”

“Do it,” his voice was dangerously calm. He kept walking forward.

Naishe backed away until her back hit a bookshelf. “Don’t come any closer,” it was difficult to hide the quaver in her voice.

“I’m not going to ask again. Take. Off. Your. Dress.” He loomed over her.

“Whatever you do to me now can’t be worse than living in this fucking house one second more.” Naishe’s voice was icy, but she couldn’t hide the fear in her eyes.

Her head banged against the books as Luis lurched forward and brought his mouth to hers. He was rough and unrelenting, not so much kissing her as holding her down.

“Get off! Get your fucking hands off m-!” before Naishe could finish her sentence, Luis placed a thick hand over her mouth. She tried to bite him, but he either didn’t feel it or didn’t care.

He squeezed arse with his free hand then brought it to her breast.

 _This is it_ , she thought. _This is why he can’t let me leave. The power. The domination._

After a while, Luis turned Naishe around so she was facing the books. He was so much stronger than her.

Naishe wished those men who’d taken down the Qunari were here now. She heard the unbuckling of his belt.

He pressed his lips to her ear. “You think anyone would want you now? You think anyone would even look in your direction the way you’re dressed?” He yanked the bottom of her dress upward. “You wouldn’t know feminine if it slapped you round the face.”

She felt her underclothes being torn from her legs. Naishe bit down on her lip hard. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.

“You should be thanking me,” he said with a grunt.

It didn’t last long. A couple of minutes of huffing and it was over.

Despite her best efforts, her cheeks were wet. But she rubbed the tears away before he could see.

Luis panted with his forehead against her neck for a few moments, then pulled himself out and did up his breeches.

Naishe gave herself a moment, then turned to face him, stony faced and silent.

Now that Luis had had his way with her, his anger seemed to have abated slightly. He brushed a strand of her hair out of her face.

Naishe flinched at his touch.

“You’d lot far prettier with a smile on your face.”

If she hadn’t been afraid he would do it again, Naishe would have clawed his eyes out then and there. She glowered at the monster she had to call her husband.

Luis left the library quickly.

The hopelessness. It was back. Naishe could barely held herself upright against the books. She refused to let herself break down, however much she wanted to. What was the point? There was no one to come and comfort her. Clarissa wasn’t there to wipe away her tears.

Her eyes eventually fell on the book she’d dropped on the floor. The sigil of the Felicisima Armada looked back at her.


	24. Drag

Naishe had taken what Luis said very seriously. Too masculine?

“I’ll give you masculine.”

An overwhelming sense of déjà vu spread through Naishe. The last time she’d tried to get her own back when Luis had said she wasn’t ladylike enough, it hadn’t ended well for her. But Naishe was not about to lie down and take it. Not without a fight.

Naishe had a plan. It was ridiculous, but it was something. She couldn’t leave the house looking like herself. She might be able to leave if she was someone else…

She rose late the day after their last argument, when she was sure Luis would have already left the house. Luis’ room was always left unlocked so servants could come in and clean. Naishe thought it showed an extreme lack of self-awareness for a business partner of a league of assassins to keep this little security over his personal belongings, but she wasn’t complaining. She’d noticed added guards situated on the ground floor, presumably to keep an eye on her. Maybe he wanted to lock away his belongings after all. His drawers were filled with expensive robes, hats and pantaloons. Gorgeous leather boots lined the walls. It was easy pickings. Naishe chose a sleek navy blue coat, a white cotton shirt, black leather trousers and black boots. When she took the trousers, Naishe eyed the blazing sun outside. She’d be sweating like a pig, but she wanted to look the part. She stared at her reflection in one of Luis’ many mirrors. A passing glance at the clothes wouldn’t arouse much suspicion, but her face was a dead giveaway that she was a woman. Antivan noblewomen tended to dress to emphasise their best features. Low-cut gowns and transparent fabrics were almost staple. A woman in men’s clothing could draw attention.

“Hmmm…”

An idea occurred to her. She grabbed one of Luis’ hairbrushes and called for one of the servants to bring paints, an easel and canvas to her room.

“Is this what you were after, miss? Ser. L-Lady Mali-Kricco.” Hamaal stammered. “Apologies serah, I can never remember…”

“It doesn’t matter,” she smiled and took the paints from him, “Naishe is fine. Would you mind making sure I am not disturbed? I can’t concentrate otherwise.” She nodded at the canvas.

“Yes of course! I’ll make sure…Naishe.” The elf bowed and left.

Within five minutes, Naishe was pulling on Luis’ clothes. She wrapped a long piece of cloth tightly around her chest to try and suppress her ample bosom before donning the shirt and coat, then squinted into the mirror. Harsher features might make her face look less feminine. She made a few experimental lines along her jaw and cheekbones with a diluted hickory coloured paint. She’d watched Hari do something similar on occasion to break up her more defining features when a disguise was required. Many of her con victims were keen to get their hands on her. Naishe’s hands weren’t as skilled as her mother’s, but darkening the areas under her cheekbones, eyes and jaw gave the desired effect.

When undiluted, the paint she was using was quite viscous. Thick enough to stick hair to. Within an hour, Naishe had pulled clumps of Luis’ own hair out of his hairbrush, trimmed them, and stuck them to her face. The idea was to give her the illusion of stubble. It looked more like costume of a poor actor, but it would have to do. She’d thickened her eyebrows and tied her hair back. It had grown a lot since she had come to Antiva. Naishe was pleased with the overall result. Her appearance was only cause for doubt if you looked hard enough. It wouldn’t be an issue unless she ran into anyone she knew.

Naishe grinned at her reflection in the mirror. She thought her male counterpart looked rather dashing. The house servants had followed her request and left her undisturbed. She would have liked to have shown Clarissa her new disguise.

A pang of guilt washed over Naishe. No. Now was not the time to dwell.

She stepped out onto her balcony and peered over the edge. The vines that twisted around the entire estate ran just underneath the balcony. Naishe swung her legs over the railing and leant a foot experimentally against the plant. It seemed sturdy enough to hold her weight. Naishe gingerly descended. When she reached the ground, she briefly considered taking one of the horses and riding it into town. It wasn’t worth the risk. The servants might assume she was just cooped up in her room again but a missing horse could draw attention. She had learned from her mother that if you walked anywhere with confidence, you were seldom stopped. The sun was setting, so she had the darkness on her side. Miraculously, there didn’t seem to be any guards in sight.

*

_The writer would like to point out here that whilst it may seem unbelievably convenient that there were no guards present to witness Naishe climb down the side of the house and apprehend her, this is not the product of lazy writing. You have my word._

*

Naishe took a breath, and marched past the edge of the estate towards the path down to the city.

“Serah! Who goes there?!”

A couple of the house guards had seen and jogged over to meet her.

Naishe bowed her head, hoping the shadow cast from one of the drake statues would hide her more recognisable features. She deepened her voice and said in her best attempt at an Antivan accent, “Lady Mali-Kricco requested blood oranges. I’ll be back within the hour.”

“Oranges?”

“Yes. I shouldn’t keep her waiting.” Naishe gestured vaguely behind her. “I trust you investigated the broken window?”

“Window?” There was a clink of metal as one guard looked at the other. “What broken window?”

“Yes. By the kitchen. I am sure of it.” She pretended to sneeze so she could cover her face. “Better hurry. Lord Mali-Kricco will string us all up if something is stolen.”

The guards must have shared her sentiments because they promptly turned tail and jogged back towards the house.

Naishe smirked and did a little bow to a peacock who’d witnessed the scene.

The road into the heart of the city was long. But the evening was warm, and the waves of the bay were calm. Antivans were lively at this time of day, so it wasn’t difficult for Naishe to blend into the crowd. The likelihood of being spotted now was slim. Luis had mentioned something about a gallery, so as long as she steered clear of those she should be fine.

Naishe walked along the Boulevard of the Seas. It was her favourite street in Antiva City. Turquoise paving tiles polished to a sheen, winking up at her in the setting sun. She heard a wolf-whistle behind her and was surprised to see the perpetrator was a Qunari.

“Hey handsome! You lost?” He was surrounded by a group of jeering lackies.

Naishe kept walking. At least she knew the disguise was working. She’d received similar comments both in Rivain at in Luis’ house. But she’d never heard them from a Qunari before. Her catcaller was the antithesis of all the callous unforgiving brutes she was more acquainted with. It was strangely pleasant to see one of them behaving this way. Naishe didn’t know much about the Tal-Vashoth. They were careful not to show their faces in Rivain.

“What’s the matter baby? Why the hurry?”

Well, there were idiots in every race.

She stumbled across a bazaar and was greatly drawn to a number of stalls. Sparkling jewels glittered behind thick glass casing. Mysterious runes to enhance weapons and armour. A pen of baby nuggalopes squeaked and butted their fence enclosure with their horns. Naishe felt sympathetic.

Most intriguingly, Naishe spotted a woman offering tarot card readings. It was something she’d seen performed many times as a child. She walked over to the haggard old woman. She had a twirly green moustache that was wider than her hips.

“Aaaaahhh…Anuhzur soul approaches…” She waved her hands in circles as though about to cast a spell. “Ah am a master of deeveenation, known across zhe lands. Would you like to ‘ear what zhe spirits say of your future?”

“How-” Naishe cleared her throat and tried to deepen her voice, “How much will it cost me, seer?”

“Ah am not a seeeer. Ah am Zhe Mystique!” She flailed a limbs some more.

“Right. How much, Mystic?”

“True enlightenment of all zat eez to come transcends zhe trivial limitations of man-made value such as currency!”

Naishe waited for the ‘but’.

“’owever, eet costs Zhe Mystique great spiritual mana. My price eez ten gold pieces, young wanderer!”

Naishe rolled her eyes. The fee was extortionate but it was Luis’ money and she was happy to burn it. She fished some gold out of her coin purse and gave it to The Mystic.

“Aaaaahhhh. Ah feel zhe Fade growing clearer now! Ah see what was, what eez, and what eez still to come! Step eento my tent and you will learn zhe truth!”

The theatricality amused Naishe, and she followed the woman into the tiny tent and sat down on a flimsy stool. The tarot card were stacked on the table.

The Mystic sat opposite Naishe and began clumsily shuffling the cards. Every time she dropped one she was say something like, “Aaaaah! Zhe spirits are excited!” or “Per’aps more gold would ‘elp me see your prophesy…”

Naishe bit her tongue so as not to laugh.

The woman spread the cards out on the table and looked at Naishe. “Choose seven cards one at a time and unlock your destinyyy.”

The Rivain tapped the first card.

“Aaahhh…Zhe Fool…”

“Off to a good start…”

“Non! Eet eez a good omen. Let go of your expectations and trust your eensteencts.”

“Oh. Well…Alright.” She picked another card.

“Eenteresting. Zhe ‘anged Man. Accept zhe consequences of your decisions.”

Naishe decided to ignore this piece of advice for the moment, feeling uncomfortable.

“Ah believe ah am right een thinking you are at a crossroads een your life?”

“I suppose..?”

“Oui. Zhe Mystique knows. Zhe card means you may wipe zhe slate clean eef you wish. A fresh start awaits.”

The was more comforting. Another card.

“Judgement. You may not be aware of eet now, but you possess zhe powers to make changes een your life. To feel ‘ole.”

“To feel old?”

“’ole!”

“Whole. Got it.”

“Per’aps zhees ees connected to Zhe ‘anged Man. Non! Ah am sure of eet!”

“That makes one of us…”

“Yes yes yes…Zhe spirits speak to Zhe Mystique. Zhey are very excited.”

“How about this one?”

“Oooo…Zhe Lovers. Am ah right een thinking you are married?”

“Well-”

“Ah knew eet! And your wife ees very seeck, yes?”

“Actually-”

“Eet ees clear to me! You must choose to stay with your seeck wife, or move on with your life. Zhis ees your choice. Sacrifice zhe lesser option. Eet is zhe path to zhe maturity of zhe soul! Veeeery eenteresting.”

Naishe thought of what her mother would say to all this. A phony seer conning people out of money. Something sounded familiar.

“Next…Zhe Devil!”

“Uh oh.”

“Do not fear! Zhe Mystique shall reveal all. Zhe Devil means zhis: let go of your eenheebitions. Express your true self. Ah think you are ‘iding something, yes?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Aha! Yes! You must not be afraid to come out of zhe shadows! You may only ‘ide for so long. Embrace what you are ‘iding. Zhe Devil ees a good omen.”

Zevran would certainly be pleased about her prescription to release her inhibitions.

“Zhe Chariot. Eentersting…Ah ‘ear…What ees zhat? Zhe spirits. Zhey speak to me…” She cast her eyes around the tent.

Naishe wondered whether she was searching for her guide to bullshitting customers.

“Ah! Of course! Zhe Chariot. You pride yourself on your flexibility, yes?”

Well, Zevran sure did.

“Yes…Ah think so…Zhere ees freedom een your future. But you must use zhis flexibility to drive eet! Search for moments of change. Do not fear zhem! Zhey are zhe path to freedom. Zhis ees what zhe spirits say.”

The Mystic reminded her a lot of the Rivaini seers. Naishe had watched many women allow themselves to be possessed by demons, or pretend to be. They claimed it was for the benefit of others. Entertainment, sooth-saying and healing. Hari often used the guise of seeking spirits to infiltrate villages and rob them of their coin. She said anyone you can steal from is clearly too stupid to own what you’ve taken. Naishe found herself forming an amused respect for The Mystic. If people were thick enough to believe her theatricality, why not make some coin from it?

“Aaaaand zhe final card…” She turned it over, and went silent for a moment, considering it. “Death.”

_Oh boy._

“Ah believe…You are ‘olding onto something. Do you think of zhe past?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Yes…Death…Eet does not point to your eempending doom. Zhe demise of your wife…Eet ees possible. Eet ees something you must consider…‘owever,” she looked at Naishe, almost sadly. “You must let go of zhe past. Eet ees zhe only way you will be truly free.”

Naishe’s smile slowly melted away. She felt slightly winded from the reading.

The Mystic watched her thoughtfully. Naishe felt like she was seeing right through the disguise. Maybe she wasn’t so senile after all.

The Rivaini thanked her for the reading and vacated the tent. She wondered whether what the cards had said only made sense because she wanted them to. They made her nostalgic. Maybe the woman had just been making it up as she went along.

She started wandering through the city again. Thoughts of her tarot reading were quickly replaced by thoughts of chafing. Whilst Luis’ trousers were a step up from the heavy gowns he would have her wear, they rubbed against her thighs. She’d sooner do away with then altogether.

“Step one: run away. Step two: lose trousers. Step three: live happily ever after.” That sounded like a plan. After last night, she was seriously considering leaving. Luis would never agree to let her go. She’d have to sneak away.

Naishe noticed she was walking towards the harbour. She always seemed to end up there. She caught her reflection in a window. She’d already snuck out. Now could be her chance. A wolf-whistle made her look forward. Courtesan’s lined the streets, cooing and blowing kisses at passers-by. It was hard to be surprised. Antiva City didn’t have a red lantern district. It was one.

A buxom redhead sashayed over to Naishe and stroked her lapels, “What’s a handsome young man like you doing alone at this time of night?”

“Taking up the time of beautiful women, clearly.” Naishe shot her a charming smile. Escaping the city could surely wait an hour…

“Such a gentleman! I’m Charlotte, kitten. You _are_ a cute little thing. What’s say you hear what I have to tell you…” She batted her eyelashes and leaned close to Naishe’s ear.

The Rivaini felt a fumbling around her belt, and looked down to see Charlotte unfastening her coin pouch. Before Naishe could react, Charlotte brought her knee crashing into her crotch. She fell to the ground, vaguely aware of the redhead sprinting away. The surprise superseded the pain. Although winded, she’d live.

A hand offered itself down to her.

“Thank you,” she said, taking the hand and pulling herself up.

A pair of huge familiar eyes loomed at her.

“Pravus!” She staggered back, panicking.

“Hmm?” He tilted his head to the side, slightly nonplussed.

Naishe rallied quickly, deepening her voice. “P-Pravus Kamas. Isn’t it?”

He nodded slowly, “It is. Have we met?”

Naishe’s mind was racing. He didn’t recognise her. She could play this to her advantage, “You’re the famed broker aren’t you?”

He bared a black toothy smile. It was horrible, but encouraging for what Naishe had in mind. “That is I. Few remember that.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Naishe started to gush. “You’ve worked with all the greats, haven’t you.” She racked her brain to remember what Luis had said when he introduced them. “Karafel…?”

If a creature like Pravus could be pleasantly surprised, he was now. “Karafol. The duke,” he puffed his chest out a little in pride. “I’m impressed. People rarely take an interest in my work, particularly after they have just been mugged.”

Naishe smiled at him sheepishly, “I’m a great admirer of yours. Looking to go into the business myself.” Her eyes darted down to the signet ring on his left hand. Luis had forbidden her from writing any letters, and kept a close eye on any mail that came to and left his home. She could sneak a letter out, but had no one to give it to once she had. If the letter looked like it came from Pravus, Luis wouldn’t think twice about it. Pravus had unrestricted access to the ravens and owls for business purposes. If information were to be leaked about the counterfeit paintings he and Luis had been discussing, it would be bad news for both of them. The Antivan Guard were in Luis’ pocket but it was worth a shot if it would get Pravus out of the way.

“Is that so?”

“Absolutely. In fact...” Naishe hoped her hopeful smile would win him over. “I would _love_ to pick your brains on the matter, old boy. Perhaps over a drink..?”

“I’m afraid I am terribly busy. Perhaps another-”

“Just one! I owe you for helping me regain some dignity just now.”

Pravus considered her for a moment, “Very well. One drink.”

“Excellent!” Naishe cleared her throat, “I mean, yes. Good news. The nearest tavern is this way I think.” She gestured towards a bar known as _The Cloak and Stagger_.

Naishe would have to write off running away tonight, but that didn’t mean the night couldn’t be profitable. She held the door for Pravus to enter first and insisted she pay for their drinks, before remembering she had just been robbed.

Pravus smirked and offered the barmaid some coin.

Naishe found them a table to sit at.

“I would suggest better security for your gold if you wish to be successful in the investments business.”

“Yes. I’ll be more careful next time…” Naishe took a long sip from her tankard when the barmaid came and plonked their drinks down.

After a moment, Pravus followed suit. “I assume you’re not native to Antiva if you’re not prepared to be robbed Ser…I don’t think I got your name.”

The Rivaini had a plethora of aliases from her mischievous childhood back home. “Cesario Sesonta, serah. And you are correct. This is my first time in Antiva.”

“You are Rivaini?” Pravus’ eyes had narrowed slightly. He sounded almost accusatory.

Naishe chuckled and shook her head, hoping the blush wasn’t visible in her cheeks, “Ferelden born and bred. My mother was from Amaranthine, my father was Nevarran.”

Pravus’ features softened slightly. “Nevarra. I have never visited there.”

“Beautiful country. Terrible storms though.”

“Storms? In this time of year?”

Naishe panicked and clinked her tankard against Pravus’. “Bottoms up, old boy. This is good ale.” She brought the drink to her lips but didn’t swallow any. She wanted to keep a clear head.

Pravus either didn’t notice the panic or didn’t care, and promptly finished his drink.

“You managed to keep that down? Maker. This stuff’s too strong for me.”

Stroking Pravus’ ego worked wonders. He smirked again and gestured for another drink.

Naishe was amazed those bulbous eyes hadn’t seen through her disguise in a heartbeat. Her curiosity got the better of her and she asked, “And where are you from, Ser?”

“The west,” he said unhelpfully.

“Oh. Lovely.” Naishe hadn’t really expected him to be forthright with personal information, particularly to a stranger. It didn’t matter. She just needed him to drink. “Well I’ll cut to the chase then. How did you get started in the money business?”

Pravus was far more detailed in his reply this time. He remembered every detail as though it had happened yesterday. Any time he took a pause, Naishe would congratulate him on his impressive use of initiative. After every word of praise, Pravus would smile and take another sip. He enjoyed showcasing his expertise to such an enthusiastic audience. He mentioned Luis a few times, although he phrased everything as though Luis was his loyal lackey rather than the other way around. Stories about their business deals and exhibitions and delusional artists.

About an hour later, Pravus was stinking drunk. Naishe had finished her ale and had been ordering water for herself ever since. Pravus’ head was starting to droop and he slurred his words. It was nice to see him so vulnerable. Naishe felt powerful for once.

“Another!” Pravus stamped his foot to get the attention of the barmaid and waved his mug in the air.

Naishe grimaced, “I’m struggling to keep up, old boy. Too used to mead I suppose.”

“Mead? Hah!” He gave Naishe a pitying look. “You better get used to *hic* whiskey if you’re going to hang around. I’ve seen shots of the stuff floor a Qunari.”

“Qunari? I didn’t think they were allowed to drink.” Naishe couldn’t help herself, “Too busy getting anyone with a pulse to join their bloody cult.”

This shocked Pravus, but only lead to more hacking laughter. “You must have *hic* been to Rivain.”

Naishe nodded, “I have. The poor people there…”

Pravus’ mood changed so suddenly that Naishe wondered whether he was about to throttle her. “Dogs! The lot of them,” he spat each word with venom. “Nothing more than slaves to the Qunari. Filth.” It wasn’t just ignorant prejudice, it was genuine loathing.

Naishe’s opinion of the man was already so low that it seemed difficult for it to drop any further. She silently wondered whether some Rivaini had turned him down in the past to make him this spiteful. Hari had always told her men were like that.

She raised an eyebrow at him, “Didn’t you say your friend was married to a Rivaini?”

“‘A stunning flower plucked from the heart of Rivain itself.’”

It took Naishe a second to realise he was trying to imitate Luis.

He snorted and continued, “A common street rat. Some orphan taken from the Dairsmuid slums.”

Naishe’s fist clenched under the table but her face remained impassive. “I’m getting the impression that you don’t approve of the union.”

Pravus made a dry raspy laugh. “He doesn’t realise how it looks,” he hiccupped. “The Talons of the Antivan Crows would never descend to that *hic* level. He’s acting like a common noble.”

Naishe chose not to point out the flaw in Pravus’ logic. He seemed beyond reason.

“The previous Lady Mali-Kricco was far more *hic* suitable. A girl from the Anderfels. Good family. Old money.” Pravus spoke of her with a nostalgic lilt in his voice, along with the heavy slur.

“What happened to her?”

“Luis grew tired of her I imagine. Or someone else with deep *hic* pockets took an interest. It’s always something like that.”

_Always?_

“They seldom last longer than a few years. I don’t know what’s *hic* taking him so long with this one.”

Naishe had never seen someone so irritated by their friend’s love life. It almost made her pity him. “Well, I can’t say I share your opinion of Rivaini folk, Ser Kamas.”

“Few do,” Pravus rolled his eyes and spilled some of his drink down himself. “An increasingly sparse few.” His lids were becoming increasingly heavy and he was slowly sliding further down his seat.

Naishe stood, circled the table and crouched next to Pravus. “You listen to me you lecherous little parasite…”

The tavern was almost empty. The barmaid alone overheard what the young Ferelden noble said to his inebriated friend. He told him that he was of the opinion that Pravus’ ancestors knew only the love of mountain goats and asserted strongly the probability that his organ of generation was as flaccid as a newly-lanced pustule. He asked what the broodmothers of Blights gone by were employing as an arse whilst Pravus was using the tender part of the diabolic anatomy for a face. He finished by telling him he had asked the diseased lout at the bar to spit into his drink and that he prayed for the day a mage shoved their staff so far down his throat he pissed liquid fire. The nobleman then watched his fellow fall into a doze, pocked the signet ring on his left hand, his coin purse for good measure, and departed.

The man left at the table snored on.

*

Naishe had intended to go straight back to the estate. The household would surely have realised she was missing by now. But she was in good spirits, and _The Perfumed Spring_ had caught her eye. The girls inside were thrilled by Cesario. He didn’t carry himself as proudly as the usual clientele. They were either brash or timid. Cesario was somewhere in between. Charming but reserved.

Naishe was a little nervous. She’d never been to a place like this without Zevran. She could picture him now, whispering things that would make the most prudish Grand Cleric sink to her knees to the whores that lingered. There was a man reclined on a sofa doing just that to a blushing woman of around forty. He had the same cocky air of Zevran. The same golden hair. A little larger around the stomach perhaps. He turned his head to speak to another of the girls. Naishe was amazed. Dark tattoos flicked down his cheek in the same way Zevran’s did. The resemblance was uncanny.

_Wait a minute…_

It seemed Naishe couldn’t go anywhere without running into the elven assassin. She managed to catch his eye and raised an eyebrow. It took him a few seconds, but recognition spread over his face. Naishe was impressed that Pravus’ huge orbs had failed to recognise Naishe for who she really was when sat across a table. Zevran managed it from across a room. He thanked the women for their time, kissed each of their hands, and swaggered over to Naishe.

“Well, well. A new face. And I thought I knew everyone who frequented this place,” he ran a finger lightly along Naishe’s ‘stubble’. “And what do you call yourself, serah?”

“Cesario. Cesario Sesonta.”

“Cesaaaario,” Zevran rolled the r on his tongue for several seconds. “A pleasure, truly. Perhaps you will join me upstairs.”

“And spoil all my hard work?”

“It’ll be worth your time. And I am going away soon. You must allow me the honour.”

Naishe conceded, rolling her eyes, and followed Zevran up the stairs, much to the chagrin of the girls they’d abandoned.

“Fresh off the boat. Them lot always want a taste o’ ‘tivan meat.”

“Probably because _some_ one looks like they rolled out of a haystack this morning.”

“Shut up, Gretta.”

“If disguises are to become a regular hobby of yours, let me say I approve,” Zevran said as they climbed the stairs.

“Awwww. Didn’t fool you?” Naishe dropped the deeper voice.

He chuckled. “Not bad for a first try.”

Zevran took Naishe to his usual room and then went to “fetch something” on the floor above. Naishe took a look at herself in the floor length mirror. She wasn’t really surprised that Zevran liked to look at himself whilst he enjoyed all _The Perfumed Spring_ had to offer. The disguise had held up pretty well, all things considered. The beard was rubbing off but it was dark outside so no passers-by would doubt its authenticity.

There was a creek of floorboards just outside. Naishe turned to see the elf once more, accompanied by two others.

“Kattien and Oola.”

Kattien was a handsome man built like an ox with twinkling silver eyes and a twirly moustache that betrayed his Orlesian origin. Oola was a dark-skinned dwarf with breasts so large Naishe wondered how she didn’t tip over. They both eyed her up with a hungry gaze.

“I thought they could keep us company a while, yes?”

Naishe grimaced, “They might be wondering where I am…” wondering how long it would take before they started searching for her.

Zevran pouted, twisting a finger through Kattien’s burgundy hair. “They’ve been _so_ looking forward to meeting you, ‘Cesario’.” He exaggerated his accent when he was trying to win her over. It often worked.

Oola batted her eyelashes. “You haven’t seen what Kat can do with his tongue.”

Naishe felt her resolve melting away and said, “Well, I’ve been late before.” Oola’s tattoos spread from her forehead to her chest; Naishe began kissing every one of them.


	25. Freefall

The next day, Naishe scribbled a detailed letter about the meretricious paintings Luis and Pravus were planning to sell. Her new-found linguisitic skills came in handy. She thought she must sound like those pompous highborn ladies she saw strutting around the markets. She embellished a lot of the story, but exaggerations wouldn’t matter. The reader would have enough reason to investigate the claims. When she’d finished re-reading the letter, she melted a wax stick over the seal and stamped it with Pravus’ ring. It was addressed to the Antiva City Guard.

“Let’s see if you can wriggle out of this one…”

Naishe sat back in her chair, frowning a little. She’d prefer it if Pravus’ comeuppance involved a blunt knife and his testicles but this would have to do. The ravens were kept in cages in a room adjacent to Luis’ study. It was easy enough for Naishe to sneak her letter onto the pile of outgoing mail. The ravens watched her silently like they knew exactly what she was doing. It was just as well that they couldn’t speak. 

The Rivaini was heading to the kitchens to ask Hamaal for a snack when she heard her name called.

“Naishe, I’d like to introduce you to one of my closest friends.” Luis was stood in the doorway of the parlour beckoning her to join.

Naishe resisted rolling her eyes. Luis introduced everyone as his closest friend when they had deep pockets. There must be another reason for this visitor. To her surprise, the person that greeted her when she entered the room was a woman.

“This is Elektra. She is-”

“ _They_. If you don’t mind.”

Not that close after all.

“Apologies. _They_ are one of Tevinter’s up-and-coming chief alchemists. A great loss to the art community.”

Naishe raised a quizzical eyebrow and Elektra said, “I used to model for your husband. Now I have set my sights higher…”

A model? Naishe could see why. Elektra had short startlingly red hair and sharp cheekbones. They were incredibly tall, towering over Naishe and still a good few inches above Luis. They had long sharp nails that made Naishe wonder how Elektra ate anything. Their eyes held a perpetually indifferent gaze as though everything and everyone was below them but their smirk suggested bemusement. Naishe was a little intimidated.

“Fetch me a drink would you?”

“Yes, Naishe. I think we’d all enjoy some of that port from the Western Approach on a day like this.”

“Not her, Luis. You.”

Naishe’s eyebrows were almost in her hairline. No one told Luis what to do. She didn’t think she’d ever seen anyone request anything of the Antivan.

Elektra looked at him coolly, standing their ground.

A mixture of expressions fluttered across Luis’ face. He looked from Elektra to Naishe and back again. Eventually, he smiled and chuckled. “Of course. I’ll just be a moment. Naishe, would you mind keeping our guest company?”

The Rivaini nodded, smirking. She could get used to Luis being the lap dog for once.

Luis left the two alone.

Naishe thought she heard a grumble as he walked away from the parlour.

“You must get the chance to see many sights. You and your husband.”

The Rivaini looked back at Elektra and shrugged her shoulders as neutrally as she could. It wouldn’t reflect well on Luis if people knew he kept her locked away indoors.

Elektra was inspecting one of the paintings on the wall and continued, “Beautiful…Blessed Age I think…”

From this angle, Naishe could see that Elektra’s cape was almost feathered in appearance. It shimmered like a bird’s wing. Naishe was oddly transfixed.

“Was it Ferelden?”

“Sorry?”

“Where you and he last visited.”

“Oh…” It wasn’t hard to remember. She’d been put under house arrest after all. “Yes. Ferelden.”

“Beautiful this time of year.”

“I suppose. Chilly.” That was no stretch. Ferelden’s idea of summer was laughable in the east.

Elektra chuckled and said, “Of course.” They turned to Naishe then and approached her slowly.

A strange sensation was washing over Naishe. A warmth. A calmness. Almost nostalgic in a way. She felt very at ease.

“Do you visit Ferelden often?”

“Hmmm? Ferelden…No not often…” It was like she was floating. Every background noise of the house had vanished to leave her in peace. Only Elektra’s voice permeated through.

“How about him. Does he?”

“Luis. Yes. I think so.”

Elektra’s gaze was unbreakable. Their electric blue eyes seemed to be staring right into Naishe’s soul. “Do you know who he meets with?”

Who he meets with? She must know…surely…He gushes about his business at the dinner table all the time…Is she ever listening?

A tiny voice in Naishe’s head was telling her to think hard. It wasn’t forceful or angry. Just a suggestion. And Naishe didn’t want to disappoint the voice. Memories tumbled over themselves in her mind. Luis in Rivain. Luis saying his vows. Luis yelling. Yelling…

“Did he let you know he was leaving?”

He must have. No, he did. What had he said, before the guard had dragged her off…

_“I would’ve asked you to accompany me, but I couldn’t tolerate any more of your whining. A shame really…”_

“Royalty…”

“What?”

Naishe focussed as hard as she could on the memory. “He mentioned royalty. Orlesian royalty.”

Elektra was silent for a while. Their eyes were glittering. They looked more satisfied. “You haven’t left Antiva in some time.”

“No.” How long had it been now? A year? “He…he doesn’t let me.” Why was saying all this so easy? Naishe felt like a huge weight was being lifted from her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t worry.” Elektra smiled a little, then finally looked away.

The Rivaini felt like an electric charge had just hit every nerve in her body. She was jogged back to reality in a millisecond. All the noises of muffled voices and horses clopping towards the estate suddenly came rushing back. Naishe blinked several times and shook her head. She barely noticed what Elektra said before they left.

“Rich men often end up dead.”

*

News spread about Pravus like wildfire. The esteemed broker revealed to be up to his eyeballs in criminal activity. The Antiva City Guard raided his home and found letters pertaining to counterfeit paintings. Costs of materials. Travel expenses. Even bribes. They locked him in a cell before sundown.

Even if Naishe hadn’t heard whispers from the guards, she knew her letter had achieved exactly what she wanted because of Luis. His anger was palpable. She heard him roaring orders at his servants and firing them left and right for minimal wrongdoings. At dinner he barely touched his food and wouldn’t say a word to Naishe. She didn’t know what he had to be so angry about. He wasn’t the one in prison after all. The Antivan guard had always been in his pocket. It paid to be so intimate with the largest assassin order in Thedas as well. Naishe found it oddly satisfying that Luis had dropped all association with Pravus so quickly. He daren’t not risk tarnishing his precious reputation. Loyal indeed…

Naishe didn’t care much for his sulking. She wished Zevran were around to entertain her, but she hadn’t seen him in weeks. She supposed he must be on a job somewhere far away. The thought made her jealous. Wherever he was, whatever he was doing, at least he was free. Naishe mentally berated herself when she had these thoughts. Pining over a life she didn’t have would get her nowhere.

Since Zevran wasn’t present, she slipped into the courtyard alone to practice the backstab move he’d shown her. The way he performed it, you rolled forward through your opponents legs and sprung up behind them to jab them in the back. It was a flashy move, like most that he taught her. Without an actual opponent, Naishe couldn’t get the move perfected, but it didn’t hurt to practice. She was using some butter knives taken from the kitchen to stab her imaginary attacker.

“Oh no! An abomination! With…legs!” She tucked her head down and rolled forward a bit harder than Zevran would have. “Take that!” She plunged her knife into thin air.

Zevran would probably call her technique sloppy. She’d just have to keep trying. Another roll. And another. She was covered in dust before long. On the seventh attempt, she kicked out with her leg after the roll. The idea was to unstable her imaginary opponent, but she overstepped and kicked the wall instead. A jarring pain shot through her leg.

“Argh! Son of a bitch!” Naishe crumpled to the ground and clutched her foot.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?”

She looked up to her left. Luis was framed in the archway. He wasn’t happy.

“What are you doing?” he said slowly. His voice was calm but his eyes looked like they could burn fire right through her.

Naishe got to her feet, wincing as she put weight on her right leg.

“Naishe. I won’t ask again.”

She sighed, “I was practicing.”

“Practicing what?” he said through gritted teeth.

“Fighting. With daggers.” Naishe held up her butter knives. “Just in case.”

“In case what?”

“In case I get attacked again? It can’t hurt, right?”

Luis glared at her, “It’s not your concern to be prepared. We have guards for that.”

“Well supposing they’re not around?”

“They are _always_ around,” he replied. Although he was technically talking about her protection, Luis’ growl sounded more like a threat. “Since when have you ever known how to fight?”

“I taught myself. You keep a lot of books on combat styles in the library.” No way was she bringing Zevran into this.

“You…taught yourself…You…” he seemed to be attempting to restrain himself from shouting, judging by the vein in his forehead.

“Yes…But is it really so bad?” Naishe stepped forward, ignoring the pain, a pleading expression on her face. “I mean, I’m not hurting anyone. I’m not making any of the servants shirk their duties to help me practice. I’m not leaving the house to do it. I’m not even using real daggers…”

“You’re not using real daggers…”

“No…I wouldn’t…”

Luis snorted and started nodding to himself. “Maker, are you serious? Sparring? In my home?”

“I wasn’t aware that it would be an issue in _our_ home.”

Luis laughed mirthlessly. “You weren’t aware…Really Naishe do you even think? Is there anything going on in that thick skull of yours?”

Naishe bit her tongue. Speaking her mind had never helped her in her husband’s company.

“Imagine if I brought a guest round and we found you scrapping in the courtyard? Bumps and bruises and filth everywhere. Imagine what that would say about me?”

Of course he was making this about him.

“Is this what you were doing before you blessed us with that little trouser stunt? Play fighting like a child?”

“I wasn’t-”

“Do you really think I want some mannish sword-wielding savage for a wife?” He snorted again.

Naishe couldn’t believe what she was hearing. The self-centred little shit. She wondered whether his overreaction was a result of his anger about Pravus. Every little thing seemed to set him off.

Before she could respond, he said, “I didn’t marry you for your brawn, Naishe.”

She couldn’t help herself, “I don’t think it counts as marriage if one of us is a captive.”

Luis raised his hand sharply as though to strike her but caught himself.

“Go ahead. Do it.” Naishe scowled, “Let your precious guests see what you really think of me.”

The Antivan stared at her for a moment, then let his arm dropped. His chest was heaving and he clenched his fists, trying hard to remain calm. “I’ve tried. I’ve given you everything. A home. Beautiful clothes. Finery most people could only dream of. I’ve cherished you. And still you disobey. It is never enough.”

Naishe let out a growl of exasperation, “You’re conveniently leaving out the part where you took me from my home and sent my friend away and banned me from leaving the house let your disgusting friends lay their hands all over me. If that’s what you do to people you cherish I shudder to think what you do to those you hate.”

He was shaking his head. Denial or delusion or the simple fact that he wasn’t used to being spoken back to.

“Maybe if you let me _out_ once in a while without your goons tailing me I wouldn’t be here trying to entertain myself.”

“You ungrateful bitch.” The lust and yearning in Luis’ eyes which he’d carried when he first looked at her was gone. Only irritation and impatience were left.

“You can call me whatever you like. Fuck as many whores as you want. Give me as many orders as you can think of. I’m never going to be the woman you want me to be.”

Luis leaned down until his face was millimetres away from hers. Naishe thought he was about to kiss her. Instead, he said in a low voice, “So. Be. It.” He straightened up.

The confusion showed in Naishe’s face and Luis let out a cold laugh.

“You don’t want any of this? Fine. I don’t want a spoilt little brat living here. I’m taking you back to Rivain.”

A mixture of emotions ran through Naishe. Confusion. Surprise. Relief. She started to nod before Luis spoke again.

“To the Qunari.”

“What!?” Her eyes widened and she looked at him non-believingly. “You can’t be serious.”

Luis gave an indifferent shrug, “You’re no use to me now. No use to anyone. But the Qunari have their ways. If you’re lucky you’ll be digging the holes for them to shit in.”

“You really think I’d willingly join those brainwashing bastards?”

“Willingly? Not at all. But you don’t have a choice. I’ll take you in a cage if I have to.” He smoothed his beard, thinking. “My nameday celebrations are tomorrow evening. We can treat the party as your grand send-off, yes? Remind you what you could’ve had…Yes…I like that very much.”

There was so much anger boiling up inside Naishe that she was actually shaking. She felt nothing but hatred for the man stood in front of her. “I swear…”

“You’ll what?” Luis snorted, “Whine at me to death? Give me nasty looks? Sulk in your-”

Naishe lunged at Luis’ face aiming straight for his eyes. He was caught by surprise and stumbled backwards. She tried to dig her fingernails into his eyes but he soon grabbed one of her wrists. Luis was stronger than her, this she knew. As hard as she twisted and wiggled to get away from him, he held on tight. He wrapped his other arm around her waist until she could barely breathe.

“Get…off…me! You…worthless…piece of…shit!” She tried to kick out with her legs but Luis held strong.

He sighed as though watching a child misbehave and said, “You’re nothing. You will never be anything. You will never make anything of your life. You. Are. Nothing.”

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Naishe went limp with defeat.


	26. Death-wish

A jug of wine flew at the wall. Dark red liquid splashed across the wallpaper like blood, dripping down onto the white satin bedsheets. The painting above Naishe’s bed was now speckled all over with flecks of the stuff. The tussle between matador and bull now looked significantly more gruesome. Their dance was coming to a climax.

Throwing the jug hadn’t satisfied Naishe. She wanted to tear this room apart inch by inch, but what good would it do? She was already doomed.

The Qunari. She was going to be taken to them. Join them. She might as well have stayed with her mother.

“Maker’s balls…” What would Hari say when she saw her? Would she even recognised the pampered noble she’d become? Would she even still be there? Naishe knew the Qunari moved around a lot. Hari could be in Dairsmuid or Kont-arr or the Sundered bloody Sea for all she knew.

Naishe’s eyes were still on the wine leaking down the wall.

No. She wouldn’t go to the Qunari. She wouldn’t. She’d run. Or she’d convince Hamaal to hex Luis. She started pacing.

_A servant dressed as me could go to Rivain whilst I make my daring escape. Luis whacks his head very hard and miraculously forgets to send her away. A swarm of bees infest Rivain and kill all the Qunari._

The more ideas she conjured up, the more ridiculous they became.

“I could challenge Luis to a game of riddles and make ‘How do I stop you sending me to a life of enslavement?’ one of the questions…Shit.” It was no use. Planning had never been Naishe’s strong suit. Escaping capture on the other hand…She was a natural. The Rivaini wondered whether she should just take her chances and hope for a window when she could flee the horned bastards.

There was a muffled thunk of furniture being moved. Maybe Luis had been insulted by the grandfather clock ticking too loudly.

Naishe leant again her desk and sighed. “What would you do in my situation?”

The exquisitely inked face of a woman on all fours looked back at her. Judging from her expression, moaning was the answer.

Naishe decided she’d revisit this strategy at a later time.

Her anger had exhausted her of all energy. She flopped onto her bed, feeling the pillow grow damp beneath her.

*

She slept right through to the next afternoon. Perhaps her body had been trying to protect her from the harsh realities of her life and keep her in the blissful aethers of sleep.

A knock on the door woke her. A servant girl entered and curtseyed.

“Hey Jamila…” she said, sitting up and rubbing bleary-eyes. _Now what…_

Big blue eyes met hers. “Lord Mali-Kricco asked me to remind you of his nameday festivities this evening,” she said politely. “He would like you to join him before sunset, wearing this.” She was carrying a lace emerald dress. It was heavily corseted with several hoops in the skirt to make it splay out wide.

Naishe sighed. One last extravagance. Luis was going to make it count.

Before she dressed Naishe, Jamila ran a bath. She washed her hair as Clarissa had, making guilt and sadness overwhelm the Rivaini. She tried talking to her, but Naishe just stared at the water in silence.

Then it came time to dress. He was perhaps a little heavy-handed with his symbolism this time. When Naishe had managed to get the dress on, she could see that her chances of escape were dwindling fast. The corset was so tight that inhaling was near-impossible. The skirt of the dress was so thick that it weighed her down. Just walking around her room felt like a feat of excellence.

“Well, shit.”

She was going to need to time her moment perfectly. Somehow get away from the guests, the guards and most importantly, Luis.

Jamila dabbed makeup onto her face that accentuated her eyelashes and lips, then helped the wheezing Rivaini out of the room and down the stairs.

It was about an hour before sunset, and the estate was heaving. Hundreds, maybe _thousands_ of guests were clustered in the entrance hall of the estate and outside in the grounds. Naishe thanked Jamila for her help and squeezed her way through the crowd jostling in the entrance so she could get outside.

A marquee had been set up so the guests could enjoy the warm evening air. There was a table heavily stocked with every wine and whiskey under the sun. Once a jug was empty, Naishe watched as it miraculously refilled. She suspected Hamaal had cast a charm so Luis’ guests would never be thirsty. A purple cake the size of a cartwheel was sitting on a table in the centre, thick with marzipan. There was a tiny silver bull rearing back on its hind legs in the middle surrounded by candles.

Some guests she recognised. Associates Luis had invited for dinner. Yves Montilyet trying to catch a peacock. Thir having an animated conversation with a group of stunningly gorgeous women. Even the mermaid from the wedding was here, although, Naishe noted, with a different lover dragging her tank. They gossiped and laughed and danced and drank. Under other circumstances, Naishe would have liked to join them, but she had too much on her mind.

She scanned her eyes around. She could see at the end of the path that guards were patting down guests as they arrived. A surprising number of daggers was amassing on a nearby table. Naishe wondered whether she could hide one under her dress, not that it would do her any good. She needed to escape, not arm herself.

She suddenly felt a hand on her arm and the familiar scent of bad breath.

“There you are.”

Naishe looked stonily at Luis. “What?”

“Smile, my princess.”

“Choke and die, husband.”

“I would like it very much if you smiled for me.”

“And I would like it very much to feed you nothing but hemp until you shit out a rope to hang yourself with,” Naishe said coldly. “But we can’t all get what we want.”

“That’s it,” he said smugly. “Get it out your system. It’ll be your last chance…”

Naishe was interrupted before she could respond.

“Ladies! Gentlemen! A moment if you would!” Luis called out gesturing for the guests to quieten. When they had hushed and all turned to face him, he continued. “I thank you all for coming here tonight. I am eternally humbled to see so many of you on my special day. I will not forget it.” He paused so the crowd could applaud him. “What you may not know is that this is a farewell party of sorts. My darling wife, the exquisite crown jewel of Rivain. Naishe!”

The Rivaini stiffened and looked at the ground.

Luis lay a hand on her shoulder and ran his fingers through his goatee as though slightly troubled. “It is with a very heavy heart that I must tell you all that very soon Naishe will be sailing to Val Royeaux to stay indefinitely. Whilst it pains me to see her go, I am happy in the knowledge that she will be fulfilling her lifelong dream of modelling for the renowned artist Claude Delacroix.”

There were a few murmurs suggesting that Luis’ audience was impressed by the news but Naishe didn’t notice. She was too busy gritting her teeth and clenching her fists. Surely _someone_ would question Luis’ story. They couldn’t all just believe that he would happily ship out the woman he claimed to cherish more than anything in the world.

“Now I know that I am not alone in saying we will all miss her terribly. She has been the light of my life for over a year now, and delighted many of you in her company. But this is her decision and I will respect it.”

Naishe wanted to wretch.

“So I ask you all to raise a glass to my beauty, my love, my _princess_ , Naishe!” Luis thrust his goblet high into the air then drained it in one gulp.

The guests quickly did the same, all of them calling out Naishe’s name with sycophantic fondness as though every one of them considered her to be a dear friend. The way they copied Luis so readily made Naishe suspect that this probably wasn’t the first time they’d bid farewell to a Lady Mali-Kricco.

There was a loud burp from Claudio who was already stinking drunk.

Luis tossed his goblet aside and grabbed Naishe by the waist. He swept her quite literally off her feet so he could plant one last kiss on her lips whilst the crowd applauded.

Naishe let her body flop like that of a corpse. All she could do now was try to humiliate Luis as much as possible. As soon as she was upright, Luis strode purposefully into the crowd to speak to someone, leaving Naishe alone to be jostled and ignored by the uncaring guests. Her wedding day all over again.

She wormed her way over to the drinks table and poured herself a large glass of red. Might as well have one last taste of luxury. Afterwards, she started circling the party, trying to see if there was a spot where the guards were lacking. She’d been able to just walk out before after all. But it was no use. Luis must have hired extra swords for the party, because the grounds were crawling with guards.

“Is it a great tragedy to see you leave us so soon, Naishe.”

The Rivaini looked up to see a heavily tanned Antivan man in maroon robes. He had the caddish smile of most Antivans and his eyes were mesmerizingly purple. Whilst striking, he wasn’t familiar to her.

“Perhaps it is for the best. There are less people likely to sneak up on you sleeping and cut your throat in Orlais. They’re far too preoccupied with which kirtle is in season.”

“Right…” Based on everything she’d ever heard or read about Orlais, she wasn’t sure throat slitting was off the table. But it had given her an idea. Cutthroats…

“Forgive me. The name’s Tristán.”

Naishe wasn’t really listening. She cast her eyes around at the guests. Claudio was among them. So was one of the assassins who’d visited the estate previously. The Crows.

“Prince Tristán? Brother of Natale?”

“What?” Naishe said, a little restlessly.

He looked a little affronted at not being recognised and narrowed his eyes. “You must be devastated.”

Naishe raised an eyebrow. “Should I?”

“About leaving your loving husband.” Tristán looked a little suspicious now.

“Oh. That. Yes. I’m holding back my tears,” she said flatly.

“I see…” he was clearly very disappointed by Lady Mali-Kricco, of whom he’d heard such raving endorsements. “So, tell me. Why Orlais?”

Naishe was too distracted looking for Luis. “Uh…you know. The painter guy.”

“‘The painter guy’.”

“Yes. Good with…paints.”

“Right.” Tristán wasn’t convinced. He took Naishe’s arm and said, “Come. I would like to speak with your husband about this ‘painter guy’.”

Naishe tried to shrug him off, but she needn’t have worried.

“Tristán! Is that you?”

They both turned to look. It was Thir.

“Yes it must be! I could never mistake those eyes.” His cheeks were reddened with drink.

Naishe couldn’t help but smile as he hobbled up to them.

“Ser Pluret is it?” Tristán said, rather unimpressed.

“Ahh you remember me. What has it been? Twenty-seven years?”

“Yes. I was told you were a friend of the family when I was a baby.”

“Quite right, my boy. Quite right. You were no bigger than I am.” Thir smiled and took a fistful of Tristán’s robes. “Do come along! I would like to catch up. Did you ever get rid of those boils?”

Tristán was forced to release Naishe due to Thir’s unexpected strength and was dragged away.

When Thir turned his head, Naishe could have sworn she saw him wink. It was all the encouragement she needed.

She started pushing herself through the crowd. Inspiration was blooming. Luis couldn’t send her to Rivain if he was dead. The assassins themselves wouldn’t do it, they were too close to Luis. Claudio was too loyal. But _she_ could do it. It was extreme, but Naishe would do anything not to get sent to the Qunari. Even murder.

The familiar boom of Luis’ voice was missing from the party now. Naishe looked everywhere, but he didn’t seem to be drinking his body weight in wine or flirting with his guests. Not outside anyway. Naishe pulled an impossibly large woman aside and asked her if she’d seen Luis.

“Luis?”

“Yes.” There was a pause. “The host?”

“Ah yes! Luis is a dear friend. Twelve years I’ve known him, don’t you know. Twelve! I remember the days when he still wished to be a knight!”

“Yes but I was wondering if you had seen him recently? In the last thirty minutes?”

“Let me see…No no I shouldn’t think so. We’ve been too busy talking to that Nevarran chap, haven’t we Arnold?” The woman looked sideways at a raven perched on her shoulder.

It chirped half-heartedly.

“Quite right. Fascinating lad. Deaf you know. He makes a sinfully good mille-feuille.”

Naishe was growing impatient, “So nothing since the speech?”

“Speech? Ah yes! Very touching. She’s a fine girl. Nasheeta. Natasha.”

Arnold chirped again.

“That’s what I said.” The woman patted the bird’s head. “Have you met my husband?”

“…”

“Cursed by a witch you see. Changes form every quarter moon. Last time he was a frog! You can imagine the stares…Still, we’re optimistic. I’m sure we’ll find a cure soon.”

If a raven could roll its eyes, it did then. Just as Naishe was about to give up and leave, Arnold chimed in again. His chirps were directed at her, but she didn’t speak bird.

His wife nodded and said, “He says he saw Lord Mali-Kricco with someone earlier.” She lowered her voice a little, “You know, knife-ears.”

Naishe thanked Arnold for his help and walked away before that woman became her next target.

Knife-ears? This wasn’t good. She worried that Luis might have taken Hamaal for some alone time again. The stress of drinking himself stupid and sentencing his wife to a life in the Qun must have gotten too much. She had to find him.

Despite it being a party to celebrate her, Naishe found it easy to make her way inside unnoticed. She hadn’t realised how swelteringly hot it was outside until she was out of the sun. A sheen of sweat made the dress even more cumbersome. She took a moment to enjoy the coolness of the air before walking past the entrance through the foyer. It was empty. The only sounds came from outside. Naishe figured Luis’ bedroom was her best bet. She climbed the stairs quickly and quietly.

Worried what she might find, and determined to ‘deal’ with Luis one way or another, Naishe picked up a candlestick from one of the end tables at the top of the stairs. When she reached Luis’ bedroom door she leant her ear against it to listen. Nothing. Naishe slowly turned the handle and pushed open the door, fingers tightening on the candlestick. There was a clunk as the candlestick fell to the floor.

Zevran was stood there staring at the floor. His hands were dripping in blood.

When Naishe stepped into the room, she saw what was lying at Zevran’s feet. Luis, on his back with blood oozing from his chest. His eyes were glazed over, staring blankly at the ceiling. His final expression was one of moderate surprise.

“What…”

Zevran’s eyes darted at her. “Naishe, you shouldn’t be here.”

“Zevran. What have you done?” He tried to keep her from getting any further but she moved him aside and went over to Luis.

“Naishe-”

“You killed him.” Looking down at the man on the floor, he was almost pitiful. Not the intimidating aristocrat he’d been less than an hour ago. Lord Mali-Kricco in all his glory, his blood soaking into the carpet.

“Naishe, please listen-” Zevran was eyeing her cautiously. He didn’t expect what happened next.

Naishe threw her body against his until he slammed against the wall. Her lips crashed into his before he could utter a single word, an impressive feat considering her costume. Fierce yearning kisses filled with desire.

After a moment of surprise, Zevran responded in kind. He was barely able to keep up. Naishe’s enthusiasm was so potent that Zevran struggled to breathe. After a few moments, he gently pushed her away, unsure whether a smile was strictly appropriate in the given situation.

“That wasn’t what I expected.”

Naishe grinned. “Let’s just say I was following my instincts.” Her hands started to trail down Zevran’s doublet but he shook his head.

“We can indulge in your instincts later, yes? I must go. I suggest you do too.”

Naishe nodded. Her mind was teeming with thoughts. She could go anywhere now. She wouldn’t be sent to the Qunari. She was free.

Almost.

“Why did you do it?”

Zevran shook his head again. “Later. I’d rather not hang around.”

Naishe looked at the corpse again and made up her mind.

“I’m coming with you.”

“Naishe, you can’t-”

“I know we can’t…I know I can’t go _with_ you…” She paused for a moment, looking at her feet, then met his gaze once more, resolute. “Just get me out of here. You owe me that much.”

“I owe you?”

“I mean,” Naishe gestured to the corpse, “you _did_ just murder my husband.”

“Point taken.” Zevran checked that he had all of his things then went to see if any eavesdroppers were looking in the hallway.

Naishe was about to follow, but she had to have one last look. She approached Luis’ body again and crouched beside it. This would be the last time she saw those big hands and that terrible goatee. Those ogling black eyes, now just blank. There was a second where she almost pitied him. He who had taken her from her home and kept her like a necklace in a display case. He who had instilled so much fear and intimidation into the people around him. Lying there in his own blood, Luis looked like nothing more than a sad old man.

Naishe slid the ring off her left hand and placed it on Luis’ motionless chest. Then she closed his eyes with her fingers so he couldn’t look at her anymore.

“Zevran, let’s go.”


	27. Jailbreak

The party was still in full swing. No one was any the wiser. Naishe even thought she heard the pop of a champagne bottle and Claudio’s jubilant cry. An appropriate reaction to recent events, she thought.

They took a quick detour to Luis’ office so Naishe could nab one of the fat coin purses he kept stashed in a drawer. She’d need money to get away from Antiva.

“Wait,” Naishe said as Zevran made to leave. “Servant’s quarters. Quickly.”

“Naishe we don’t have time-”

“Shut up and follow me.”

Zevran rolled his eyes but obeyed.

They made their way to the servant’s quarters. Luckily, there didn’t seem to be anyone there. They must all be outside serving guests.

“Help me out of this damned thing,” Naishe said, trying to wriggle out of the dress.

Zevran smirked and started unlacing the corset. “I _said_ we should do this later.”

“Ha bloody ha.”

“You sound different you know.”

Naishe felt strange hearing him say that. She’d noticed the change too. It made her neither sad nor happy. She didn’t feel like she’d abandoned some great part of herself, nor did she feel like she was pretending to be someone else.

“Do I sound like a highborn Ferelden countess now?” she said, turning around and batting her lashes.

“Perhaps. But don’t worry,” Zevran said, observing her naked body. “You still look like a common whore.” He flashed a grin.

She shoved his shoulder, smirking. “Such a charmer.”

Naishe rooted around the beds until she found a simple grey tunic and trousers. She slipped them on, followed by some leather greaves.

“Better. But I preferred you in nothing.”

“Eyes front, elf.”

“Lady Mali-Kricco?”

They both jumped.

The timid frame of Hamaal appeared. He looked confused.

“Hamaal! Er…Fancy seeing you here!”

Zevran gave Naishe a wistful look.

“Was…Was there something you needed?” Hamaal’s eyes darted down at the drab clothes his mistress was wearing.

“Nothing at all.” Naishe stepped forward and smiled at the elf. “Listen. We don’t have a lot of time. I’m leaving here. You can too.”

“I…don’t understand, Lady Mali-Kricco.”

“Luis is dead.” Oh how good it felt to say those words. “He’s dead, and I’m getting out of here.”

Hamaal’s eyes widened. “Dead?”

“Dead. Stabbed. Gone.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re free Hamaal. _We’re_ free.”

“Either the boy comes now or leave him,” Zevran snapped. “We should’ve already gone.”

“Alright!” She shot Zevran a look, then back to Hamaal. “Come with us. What have you got to lose?”

It was hard to tell what Hamaal was thinking. He was quiet for a moment, then straightened up, alert. “I have an idea.”

Naishe and Zevran looked at each other, then the former shrugged. “Great. Let’s hear it.”

*

Hamaal’s plan was fairly simple to put into action. He scuttled outside under the pretence of serving guests. He’d simply told Naishe and Zevran to lurk amidst the guests outside the entrance hall and wait for his signal.

“What kind of signal is he going to make?”

Naishe shrugged.

They needn’t have worried. A thunderous boom suddenly roared from the marquee. The guests gasped and screamed in shock. Those closest to the table were covered in purple marzipan, and the roof of the marquee was starting to smoke.

“Fire!”

People started sprinting around in panic. The clunk of armour sounded as all of the guards started jogging to see what had happened, leaving the path to the city clear.

“Water we need water!”

“There’s a tank there!”

“No! That’s my wife!”

Amid the chaos, Hamaal came running.

Naishe beamed at him and gave him a quick hug. “Subtle approach! I like it!”

“What!?” Hamaal shouted over the noise.

“Let’s go!” Zevran jerked his head at the path and started running.

Hamaal soon followed suit.

Naishe took a second to grab a few knives from the pile of confiscated weapons. It couldn’t hurt. She took one last look at the Mali-Kricco estate, then ran after the others.

*

There were a lot of people in Antiva City that evening. Everyone was going about their usual business. They eventually slowed to a walk. Zevran said only guilty people run.

“Nice trick, Hamaal.”

The elf blushed. “Thanks…”

“If I’d known you could do that, I would’ve asked sooner.” Naishe grinned. In fact, she couldn’t stop grinning.

“But if anyone asks, I’m going to take credit for it,” Zevran said matter-of-factly. “Blowing up cakes is a good party trick.”

Naishe chuckled and slung her arms around both of their necks. “So, who’s for a little celebration of our own?”

A wicked smile grew on Zevran’s face. “What did you have in mind?”

Naishe smirked and started walking them towards the harbour. The red lantern district was just before it.

When they passed the harbour, Naishe’s eyes fell on the ships moored there. She spotted _The Siren’s Call_ immediately. Her scarlet body and golden bowsprit. Thick cream sails and the Mali-Kricco bull was flying at the top of the mast on its purple shield. Luis had never been one for subtlety. The ship was like a giant red signpost pointing to her freedom.

_Soon._

“This was what you wanted, yes?”

She looked at Zevran. “Yes, it was.” They were approaching the brothel Naishe had last visited in disguise. “It feels too good to be true.”

Zevran grinned and nodded at the brothel doors. “Are you sure you want this now? Hanging around is a risky plan, even for me.”

“Oh yes.” That Naishe was sure of. “I need to thank you for what you’ve done for me Zev. _Properly_.”

“I-I think I should go,” Hamaal said a little sheepishly.

Naishe was a little sad to hear this, although she hadn’t really expected him to want to visit a brothel. “Really?”

“Yes.” He smiled. “I’m…I’m very grateful. To both of you. But…I would like to go…Leave Antiva I mean.”

Naishe nodded. “Where will you go?”

“The Weyrs. My sister lives near.” He sounded very sure of himself, as though he’d been thinking about it for years.

“Oh. Well, I suppose this is goodbye then.” Naishe pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry I never… I mean...I didn’t…”

“It’s okay Naishe. We’re fee now.” When their hug broke off, he gave her a final, hopeful smile. “Dareth shiral” And with that, he was gone.

*

The brothel dwellers welcomed the two warmly and quickly led them upstairs. Naishe paid a very generous fee to a wide-eyed courtesan for six ‘companions’ to join them. Yñigo, Mariana, Vincenzo, Mikko, Joëlle and Kattien.

“Celebrating?” Kattien was lying back on the bed with his hands behind his head.

“Yes. Fancy jumping out of a cake?” Naishe yanked Zevran closer to her so she could loosen the straps on his armour.

Kattien sniggered. “What’s the occasion?”

“Well, Zev here was kind enough to murder my dreadful husband Lord Mali-Kricco less than an hour ago. I thought he deserved a reward.” Naishe placed a kiss on the elf’s neck.

“Mali-Kricco? The art merchant?”

“That’s the one.”

“The same art merchant who owns half the city guard?”

Naishe nodded.

“And you think _now_ is the best time to schedule in a fuck?”

Naishe and Zevran looked at each other, then back to Kattien. “Yes,” they said in unison.

Kattien was frowning slightly. “I hate to be a killjoy…but don’t you think they might be looking for you? Or him?”

“You really know how to make a girl hot under the collar.”

His smile broke again and he held up his hands in defeat. “Pardonne ma curiosité. Would you like me to help with that?”

Naishe had been struggling to unbuckle one of the leather pauldrons and stood back to let Kattien help.

The rest of their company had now entered the room and positioned themselves in increasingly provocative poses on and around the furniture. Vincenzo was tensing his considerable pecs so they showed through his shirt. Yñigo’s legs were spread for easy access. Mikko was on his knees, already unbuttoning his trousers. Joëlle was already stroking the hardened flesh between her legs. Mariana was holding a jar of honey in her hand and raised an eyebrow seductively at Naishe.

“Right on time.” Naishe smiled. “I was just about to give Zev a good thanking.”

“Thanking?”

“Wouldn’t that hurt?”

“Can’t he do that himself?”

Naishe smirked, “He…helped me out of a tight spot.”

Yñigo snorted, “Good thing you invited Mariana. She know aaaaaaall about those…”

“Bite me ‘Ñigo.”

“With pleasure.”

Within twenty minutes, everyone was occupied. Mariana had dripped honey over Naishe’s body and was now licking it off. Naishe would have moaned had her mouth not been locked around Mikko’s, who was playing with her hair.

Yñigo had tied Zevran to a chair and was trailing his tongue along the shaft of his cock. Every time the elf sighed, Yñigo squeezed his thighs and let out a low guttural murmur or approval. When the latter leaned forward to really go to town, Joëlle saw an opportunity and took him from behind. They all gasped collectively.

Kattien seemed to be enjoying the show and had returned to the bed.

Vincenzo was just masturbating in the corner.

It was difficult to keep track of time after a while. Naishe had paid for a few hours, but it could have been days for all she knew. How could it have only been hours ago that she had been on her way to the Qunari? It felt like someone else’s life. The last two years had brought so many highs and lows that Naishe wasn’t sure whether to feel satisfied or seasick. Or maybe that was just the effect Yñigo was currently having on her. He had her on her back with her legs by her ears. He thrust forward again and again and Naishe forgot all about earlier that day. She was certainly getting her money’s worth.

Eventually, Naishe pried herself away from Yñigo, the ebony skinned Ferelden with the stamina of three men combined. This task proved difficult and his steamy gaze alone sent twinges down her spine. But prevailed she did and she asked everyone in the room to turn their attention to Zevran and Zevran only as a thank you for what he’d done.

Everyone obliged enthusiastically, except for Vincenzo. He was masturbating in the corner. The elf was a quivering, panting wreck by the end of it.

The bed springs were creaking under the weight of the six people. Someone, it was difficult to distinguish who, grabbed Naishe’s arm and pulled her into the fray.

*

_Isabela was kind enough to show me a sketch of this scene by her own hand. I didn’t even ask for it. In fact, she showed me before she even knew I was writing this book. Each face is as delirious with pleasure as the next. I would say the logistics of the act depicted are utterly implausible, but I’ve known Isabela too long now. She once claimed to have bedded something that was both a dragon and a woman, but I’ll save that one for the next book._

*

It was a pulsing mass of limbs and sweat and cries of ecstasy. Every shudder they felt together. Every twinge. Every moan. They were one body. One mind. Zevran didn’t know where he ended and Naishe began. He wasn’t even sure how many people there were.

“Naishe?”

“Her mouth’s a little occupied blondie.”

Zevran chuckled and twisted onto his back to see the Rivaini between Joëlle’s legs.

This was freedom alright.

With a lurch and a loud sigh of relief, Naishe felt someone enter her. Whether it was Zevran or someone else equally well hung, it was impossible to say. All the felt was the unbridled pleasure of it all. No worries about someone seeing them or walking in. No time limit. Even the groaning springs of the bed felt somehow better than the lush satin of her bed in the Mali-Kricco estate.

“Fuck!” cried Naishe.

“Yes!” cried Zevran.

“Oh Maker!” cried Vincenzo, who’d been masturbating in the corner.

As each of the group came, they finally collapsed against the mattress. Some of them rolled off the edge due to lack of space. The room was quiet for a while, save for the breathy pants of its inhabitants.

“You come back any time you like…” Mikko said, dragging his body upright and moving to exit the room.

His fellows agreed and slowly followed suit, leaving Naishe and Zevran alone. Naishe still wasn’t sure how long they’d been there, but the blue haze of the sky had lifted to reveal the stars.

They lay there for a while in silence until Zevran finally said, “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking I don’t want to move for a thousand years. And that I might have to visit a healer.”

Zevran laughed, “Tell me about it.” He patted her on the leg and said, “You have my highest gratitude. I must admit I haven’t had anything like _that_ in some time…”

“Call it even?”

“Deal.”

They both grinned and pounded their fists together.

In a different story, Naishe might have looked at the beautiful golden-haired elf and begged him not to leave as she knew he inevitably would. Told him to run away with her and never look back. But that wasn’t her story. And she knew it.

“Why did you kill him?” She’d waited as long as she could to address the elephant in the room. As much as Zevran might like her, she knew he hadn’t done it for her.

The elf was staring at the ceiling, his expression unreadable. “Powerful men have short life expectancies.”

“Come on Zev.” Naishe rolled onto her stomach and poked him, “You can trust me.”

The corner of Zevran’s lip quirked upwards. “Assassins aren’t known for their trusting nature, Naishe.”

“Who would I tell?”

Zevran considered this and chose his next words carefully. “His death was…a by-product of my trade, shall we say? Someone paid a lot of money to have him gone.”

“Someone?”

“I don’t know. We’re given our contracts. We kill the targets. We rarely know who ordered the assassination. That’s not our business.” Zevran reached over the side of the bed onto the floor for his belt. He opened one of the pouches on it and pulled out a piece of parchment to hand to Naishe.

_Lord Luis Augustín Timoteo Mali-Kricco, Merchant Prince of Antiva City_

Nothing else was written. Not how. Not when. Not where he wold be. Not even the reward for his death. There was only the black winged crest of the Antivan Crows at the bottom of the paper.

“Sometimes I can put two and two together. Who benefits from seeing someone dead. Who their enemies were. You get the idea…” Zevran folded the parchment and returned it to the pouch. “Other times it’s not so obvious.”

“You don’t know anyone that would want Luis dead?”

Zevran shrugged and lay back once more. “He was a wealthy man. He must have had plenty of enemies. There were rumours about his business in Tevinter but…” The assassin shot Naishe a sly smile and added, “For all I know, _you_ sent the order.”

Naishe sighed, “If only. I’d dearly like to thank the person that did.”

She was trying to think of everyone Luis had introduced her to during their marriage. The man with the bandaged hands floated across her mind. Clarissa had said it had been Luis who’d inflicted those injuries on him. Was that enough cause to want a man dead?

Something occurred to her. “Did Claudio know?”

Zevran shrugged. “Perhaps. They usually know about the big contracts.”

She thought back to when she’d last seen him. Claudio had been so drunk he could barely stand. Had he been putting it on or drowning his sorrows? She couldn’t make sense of it.

“How did you get him alone in his room?”

Zevran had a faint smirk on his lips, “You may have noticed that your husband has, ah, _had_ a taste for elven boys. It wasn’t difficult to persuade him.”

Naishe shuddered, thinking of Hamaal. Even in death Luis still disgusted her. Another reminder of why she had to leave.

“Arsehole.”

“Yes. I’d reached the same conclusion.”

Keen to change the subject, Naishe rose and eyed the pile of Zevran’s clothes on the floor. She held up the breeches for Zevran to see.

“Mind if I borrow these?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Shame.” She pulled them on then searched for a shirt.

“Didn’t you steal some clothes?”

“These are better.”

Zevran, amused, watched the Rivaini dress herself in his clothes. She graciously left the armour emblazoned with the Antivan Crow crest. “Why not help yourself to my coin while you’re at it?”

“Tempting but I have plenty of gold. Maybe next time.”

Zevran chuckled, “Anything else?”

Naishe um’d and ah’d for a moment, before sheathing the daggers she’d stolen.

“Only an _idiot_ would run around unarmed. Who knows what I might run into?”

The elf rolled his eyes. “And what am I supposed to wear?” He could either wear the armour and risk terrible chafing or visit a clothes merchant naked.

Naishe shrugged and said, “Show the world that gorgeous arse I suppose.” She winked at him, “Although I suspect the world’s already seen it.”

He held his hand to his chest, “You flatter me.”

“I’m a giver.”

“Can’t argue there.” Zevran moved swiftly to Naishe and, always having been one for a dramatic flair, pulled her down into a dip so he could kiss her one last time.

Naishe wrapped her arms around his neck and returned the kiss happily. She didn’t know if she wold ever see the assassin again, but Naishe knew she’d never forget him.

Eventually, he let her go, another satisfied smile on his face.

“It’s been a pleasure.”

“Oh trust me Zev, the pleasure was _all_ mine.” Naishe winked again and gave him a two fingered salute, “Anyway. Places to be. Things to do.”

“Have something in mind?”

Naishe nodded and looked at Zevran with that mischievous smirk that he knew so well. “I’m going to steal a ship.”

“Safe waters, Captain.”


	28. Fledge

Naishe left the naked Zevran in their room and exited _The Perfumed Spring_ quickly. It was a very strange feeling, walking the streets of Antiva City. She’d done it before, but everything was different now. She looked at the buildings and lights and people as though for the first time. Torches created burning orbs of amber light that made the city look like it had been dipped in honey. Smells from all over the world. Fruity wine and rich tobacco hung in the air. There was no breeze tonight. The air was warm. The city was warm. But it was more than that; it was alive. One beating heart that connected everyone and everything. And the lifeblood, the people, were all absurdly content. Every face Naishe passed seemed blissfully relaxed. Nothing had changed for them. If only they knew.

The Rivaini was sad to wave goodbye to Zevran. He had saved her from more than he could ever know. Even if it were indirect, no one had ever done anything like that for her before.

Clarissa. As Naishe approached the harbour, the salt in the air brought her ex-lover’s face to mind. She felt a stab of guilt. If only she were here now. They could sail away together, both free at last.

_She’d want you to be happy._

Naishe sighed. She missed Clarissa dearly. Their time had been cut short. But another face drifted into focus. Thir’s. She recalled the advice he’d given her.

_We’re not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You can choose to be free, or you can choose to be saddled with all the world’s problems._

That’s all she’d ever wanted. Freedom. No one ever said it would come easy.

The smell of salt grew stronger. The closer Naishe came to the ocean, the more excited she became. The waves gestured to her to come with them with blue tipped fingers and pointed out to the never-ending expanse of their world. They were frenzied. Messy. Carried away with childish excitement. She belonged with them. Naishe knew that now. Not in some safe little cage to be petted and pruned. Out there. In the thrill and uncertainty of it all.

Cumberland. Minrathous. Val Royeaux. Jader. Starkaven. The Nocen Sea. The Colean. Once just fantasies. Now she could go to all of them.

The ocean twinkled at her like someone had spilled a million sapphires over the world, the sun just beginning its long climb up the sky.

Naishe locked eyes with _The Siren’s Call_ , as beautiful at dawn as it was in full daylight. The darkness allowed her a more muted grandeur as she stood proudly on the water. Mysterious. Dangerous. Naishe wondered whether the ship was going to take her to her life or her death. The thrill of not knowing was what pushed her closer.

The Siren’s Call. _How apt._

The Rivaini was a few feet away from _The Siren_ when the annoying snag in her plan that she’d been trying so hard to ignore sprung to mind. She didn’t know how to sail anything bigger than a dinghy. Reeling in all the mooring lines alone would surely take hours.

“Step one, steal a ship... step two, somehow master sailing immediately and vanish without a trace. Step three, live happily ever after. Easy.” The Rivaini sighed, “Great tactics Naishe.”

There was a man several metres away inspecting a sheet of parchment that was so long it was trailing on the ground. She figured the parchment was the shipping manifest. She’d need to at least get through him, somehow.

“Use your wits….” Naishe muttered to herself, actually looking around her to see if there was anything that could aid her. Her eyes alighted on something. “Or…use your tits.” Maybe she could start up her new life as a poet.

She walked up to the man with her best saunter and smiled.

He didn’t look up, not even when she was inches away from him. He had thick pince-nez perched on the bridge of a large hooked nose dangerously close to falling off that magnified his eyes. A thick covering of freckles and a tuft of flame red hair sprouting out the top of his head like a carrot marked him as no Antivan. It was rare to find a Ferelden so, well, _Ferelden_ this far east and _not_ on holiday. Though he wore a midnight blue coat of thick crushed velvet, it was moth-eaten and dusty. He was probably broke.

Naishe cleared her throat. And then, when the man didn’t look up, again more loudly.

He jumped, somehow only just realising she was there. The manifest dragged along the boardwalk as he turned to peer at her. His eyes were so heavily enlarged that he reminded Naishe of an owl.

“Can I help you?” his voice was high and snooty. The way he barely refrained from rolling his eyes suggested that he believed her to be utterly unworthy of his time.

“You can.” Naishe nodded her head at _The Siren’s Call_ and continued, “I own that ship and plan to set sail as soon as possible. I assume you’re the one I speak to about that?”

“I am the port master,” he said proudly, puffing out his chest. “All maritime business goes through me.”

“Well, that’s my ship,” Naishe repeated.

“Documentation?”

“Uh…documentation?”

“Yes,” he hissed.

Naishe figured confidence was her best bet here. “I wasn’t aware I needed it. This is _my_ ship after all.”

The man looked at her like she was a naughty child and smirked. “That be as it may, I need the correct documentation to confirm your ownership of the vessel.” He raised his eyebrows, “You’d be a _mazed_ at the kind of riff-raff that come along here with false claims.”

_OK, new tactic._

She put on her best posh noble’s voice and said, “My husband is Lord Mali-Kricco.”

The man’s ears twitched a little at the name.

“He’d be _veeeery_ upset if he heard I was denied access to my own property.”

“Is your husband with you?”

“Uh…Not presently.” Naishe thought fondly of the wound in his chest. “He sent me.”

“Well unless he turns up _with_ the correct documentation, I’m afraid I cannot permit you to board.” He looked at her with smug eyes.

Naishe scoffed, “Ridiculous. I’ve done this countless times before without any trouble.”

“Rules are rules, my dear.”

“Would some coin sway your decision?” Naishe regretted not bringing a large plank of wood to hit the man over the head with.

With a look that suggested nothing gave him more pleasure than to deny her her request, the port master said, “Absolutely not. Maintaining the safety and security of all vessels moored here is my primary responsibility. What I do effects every person in Antiva City from the poorest street rats to the royal family themselves! I do not take my position lightly serah and neither should you. Now unless your supposed husband turns up with clear evidence of ownership I must ask that you-”

“Perhaps I could help with that.”

Naishe spun around.

The man approaching them was instantly recognisable. The jangle of a hundred body piercings. The intricately woven tattoos of chains and symbols Naishe didn’t recognise and a nautical star along his arms. The thick red beard that reached his belly. Dante Calico. The pirate she’d rescued from the Qunari cage. He looked significantly less dishevelled. His boots were new and his clothes weren’t shredded. The hilt of a rapier was poking out of his belt and the swelling on his face seemed to be going down too.

Naishe grinned, “Dante.”

Just as she was wondering where his fellow captive was, Casavir appeared.

“‘Ello poppet. Long time no see.”

Naishe grinned, “Fancy seeing you here. Doesn’t seem like the escape plan lasted long.”

Casavir shrugged and plucked an apple from one of the nearby crates. He crunched into it and said through a large mouthful, “Eh. We ‘scaped the Qunari fuckers. Figured we’d enjoy the city…” As he spoke his eyes became glued to the arse of a beautiful woman passing by.

Captain Calico continued, “We ran into some…logistical issues.” The pirate had a habit of expressing every word he spoke through flourishing hand gestures as though every syllable needed to be visually underlined.

Casavir’s head snapped back to face them. “No fuckin’ ship. Can’t do no sailin’ without a fuckin’ ship.”

“Eloquently put.”

“Bite me, Captain.”

“Seems like you boys really know how to think on your feet.” Naishe shot them both an amused glance.

The port master looked thoroughly offended to be so immediately ignored by his company.

“I am a very busy man. You can take your chit-chat-” his nasally voice was cut off by Naishe holding a finger to his lips.

“One moment sweetheart.” She addressed Dante and Casavir again. “It seems to me that we all have problems that the other could solve.”

“‘owssat?”

The Rivaini gestured casually to the gleaming galleon beside them. “I have a ship but no crew to sail it.”

“It isn’t legally-”

“Quiet.” Dante snapped. His eyes flicked dangerously at the port master. His mouth shut immediately.

“And…” Naishe continued, “ _You_ know how to sail.”

“Tits _and_ brains.”

“Casavir.”

The blonde Starkhaven rolled his eyes and took another bite of his apple. He locked eye contact with the port master as he bit, making the latter all the more uncomfortable by licking the juice slowly off his lips.

Naishe shrugged, “Hardly mind-blowing logic.”

Dante stepped forward and lay a leathery hand on her shoulder.

“A beautiful ship for a beautiful woman.”

Naishe said nothing, staring into his eyes unblinkingly.

“And what’s to stop us from taking your beautiful ship from you, Bela?”

Bela. Beauty. Hardly great poetry. Was this Dante’s way of softening his threat?

Naishe didn’t respond for a while. She allowed their conversation to be interrupted by the screams of the gulls overhead and the shouts of sailors casting off from the dock. Felt the sting of the salt in the air so strong that it made the eyes of any visitors water.

What could she do to stop them? Physically she was not at an advantage, and her combat skills were unlikely to rival those of pirates.

“Nothing. But I should warn you that the last man that denied me my freedom now has a knife sticking out of his chest.” She smiled sweetly.

It was a gamble, but Naishe had to try. She had nothing to lose and no other cards to play.

Maybe he was feeling uncharacteristically generous that day. Maybe the prospect of the breath-taking Rivaini aboard the ship was temptation enough. Dante had a broad, rather amused smile on his face.

“Besides, I seem to recall you owing me a favour. Are you a man of your word, Captain?”

The energy in their shared gaze was electrical. Both of them daring the other to act.

Naishe wondered whether the pirate was looking at her as an equal or simply an opportunity.

Dante’s smile turned to a husky chuckle that shook his shoulders in a musical rhythm.

“Bela…How can I say no?”

Naishe nodded, internally relieved. “Atta boy.”

He let go of her and turned to the port master who still looked irritated by his company.

“You wouldn’t stand between a girl and something she wants, would you?”

The port master shrunk off his high horse as Dante spoke. He looked like he might throw up at any moment.

“Sh-she…The correct documentation has n-not…not been presented…” his voice quavered.

“Let me rephrase,” Dante put a hand on the hilt of his sword. “You wouldn’t stand between a girl, her handsome _armed_ friend, and what she wants, would you?” He didn’t raise his voice, but there was a ruthlessness that had not been present in his tone when he’d spoken to Naishe.

The other man gulped.

“Here. I’ll even sweeten the deal.” Dante unhooked a jangling pouch from his belt and tossed it to the quivering port master.

His eyes bulged when he looked inside and he quickly tucked the pouch away and attempted to regain some long lost dignity.

“Off you trot,” Naishe eyed the port master.

He seemed torn between following his cherished rules and risking a knife in his back. IN the end, he folded.

Naishe and the pirates watched him scuttle away muttering to himself about “nasty folk”.

When he was out of earshot, Casavir said, “Weren’t that the fool’s gold thatat con man tried teh flog us?”

“Finest pyrite in all the land, so I’m told.” Dante nodded, clearly very pleased by his own wits. “He denied our beautiful companion here. Didn’t deserve a reward.”

Naishe grinned.

“But as for _my_ reward…” Dante flashed her a toothy smile.

Naishe rolled her eyes. Ever the man.

“Let me introduce you to her.”

Together they walked up the gangplank of _The Siren_. Naishe tried to make it look like she knew what she was doing and where she was going, but the ship was still scarcely more than a stranger to her.

Luis had often promised her many nautical excursions in the past. To nearby islands or else just an outing on the sea. But those promises never came to fruition. Naishe supposed Luis preferred the control of staying on land. Every time he went away on business he would say, _“Next time, my princess. I’ll take you along next time.”_ Nothing ever came of those words either.

The Rivaini was starving for the ocean now. Always within eyeshot. Always at the back of her mind. Now they could finally meet again, her and the sea. Like long lost lovers finally reunited.

Every creak of the deck under her feet sounded like a sigh of relief. _The Siren’s Call_ was welcoming her home.

The motions of ship bobbing on the waves felt so right. First one way and then another. Never the same. Never predictable. The ocean made no promises. It wouldn’t claim to nurture you or despise you, it simply was.

Naishe felt herself falling in love for the first time.

Behind her, Dante was already making plans.

“Best crews will be in Llomerryn. We’ll head there first.”

“Can we sail it with only three people?”

He laughed, “We’re professionals Bela. Of _course_ we can! I’ve never captained a ship that sunk.”

Naishe looked at him, eyebrows raised. “Who said _you_ were Captain?”

Dante smirked, “Twenty years of experience says so. You don’t know the first thing about sailing or managing a crew.”

“It’s my ship.”

“Your _husband’s_ ship.”

She narrowed her eyes. “I rescued you from a bloody cage.”

“And I am eternally grateful for that.” He pressed a hand over his heart. “But this is no job for you.” He was trying to sound kind. He really sounded patronising.

Naishe didn’t see this argument going anywhere. She said, almost as an afterthought, “In Rivain the women are in charge.”

Every time Dante smirked his beard twitched, “Well, I’ve always liked a women on top.”

Naishe rolled her eyes.

“This is the ocean, Bela. The most seasoned captains in Thedas have trouble sailing through her waters.”

“Sounds like Thedas needs a better captain…”

Dante smiled again. “Hold on to that ambition my beauty. But I guarantee you won’t last a week steering this thing yourself. I can, as you say, show you the ropes.”

He held out his hand for her to take.

“If it _has_ to be this way…” Naishe took his hand and shook.

“No time like the present.” He whistled and started barking instructions at Casavir and gestured for Naishe to follow suit.

Together, they cast off and managed to catch a small gust of wind to take them east. Within an hour, Naishe’s hands were already sore from the ropes. Casavir moved like a monkey, swinging from the rigging to the mast and down to the deck with ease. Naishe learned quickly that she would need to get a lot stronger to handle herself half as well as he could. Dante was at the wheel, yelling orders to his two man crew.

They were on course for Llomerryn and Dante and Casavir were discussing who of the usual faces would be best to take for their crew.

Naishe wasn’t listening. She was looking out from the stern of the ship and the life she was leaving behind. Zevran, that magnificent creature. He would never understand the extent of what he had done for her. He probably hadn’t bore it any further thought. Naishe wondered what he was thinking about now.

And Clarissa. Sweet Clarissa. If only she could have seen her now. Seen how happy she was. Naishe hoped Clarissa was happy too. She hoped she would find someone else to love so resolutely, and that that person would love her back just the same. The Rivaini realised it was unlikely she would ever see that wonderful girl again, and she gazed sadly down at the water beneath her. It churned and sprayed in the wake of _The Siren_ ploughing through it.

She heard those words again.

_“We’re not responsible for anyone but ourselves. You can choose to be free or you can choose to be saddled with the world’s problems.”_

The waves seemed to agree with Thir’s words. Once the ship was beyond their grasp, they swept and crashed over each other as though it had never passed through them, unburned by the memory.

Naishe knew she couldn’t simply cast her memories aside in the passing wind, but she would not let them rule her.

“Bela! Hey! Come see this!”

Naishe smiled. Bela. She kind of liked it. She was sailing away from her old life, so why keep her old name? Naishe would always remind her of her mother, of Luis. It was always drag her back. Naishe belonged on land. Bela belonged to the sea.

“Isabela.” She sounded it out to herself as she walked towards the bow. She liked Isabela even more. It felt like she was creating herself, just as she’d always wanted. No one else to make the rules, just her. Isabela.

Luis had been wrong. She wasn’t a princess. She was a queen.


	29. Epilogue

“Andraste’s arse cheeks, you _do_ go on.”

“You don’t like it?”

Isabela raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“I sound like a stupid little girl who didn’t know what she was doing.”

“You _didn’t_ know what you were doing.”

“Yes but your readers don’t need to know that.” She sat back in her chair giving me a look somewhere between annoyance and amusement. “She doesn’t sound like pirate captain material.”

“Naishe wasn’t.”

Isabela almost winced. She hated hearing the name.

I tried to give her a reassuring smile. “Everyone likes a humble origin story.”

“I don’t. Besides, you stopped before all the fun bits.”

My lip quirked upwards. “Namely, your fun bits and mine.”

That perked her up. She’d used a line like that on me many years ago. I was glad to see that she remembered. Watching Isabela laugh really is the most exquisite thing. She rocks her head back letting all that raven hair that wasn’t tied down cascade down her shoulders. The sound was throaty, from the gut. Never trying to be beautiful. Always genuine.

“Now, about the pictures…”

“No.”

“I didn’t even-”

“You are _not_ illustrating my story.”

Isabela at back and rolled her eyes, “Spoilsport.”

We sat there in silence for a few moments.

“It’s brave of you to lay yourself bare like this.” I regretted my phrasing immediately.

“You know I never tire of laying myself bare, sweet thing.”

It was my turn to roll me eyes, “You’re terrible.”

“ _You_ sound like Aveline.”

“Perhaps I should ask her to write a chapter.” I repressed a smirk as much as I could.

“I’ll pass on every chapter title being some variation on ‘poxy tart’.”

“Add her as a character?”

“Only if it’s smut.”

“Maybe that’s my next book. The adventure and romance of a criminal and her guardswoman.”

“I think Varric’s already patented that.” Isabela winked.

I smiled, trying not to let the sadness show in my eyes. There wouldn’t be much reason for Isabela to hang around now.

She must have picked up on my thoughts. “So, that’s that.”

“That’s that.” I closed my notebook at long last. “Hard to believe it’s only been a couple of weeks.

“Feels like a lifetime.” She finished the final dregs of ale and set her cup down. “Well, this has been fun. But I have a crew who must be going stir crazy by now.” She stood and pulled her longcoat over her shoulders.

“You don’t want to get started on the sequel?”

Isabela chuckled. “Nice try, sweetheart. But you’re not _that_ cute. Let me know when the book’s become a bestseller and we’ll talk.”

I sighed. “Deal.”

“What did we say? Sixty percent of the profits?”

“Fifteen.”

“Sixty-five? Aww you _are_ generous.”

I rolled my eyes and stood to watch her go.

There was a pause before she pulled me into a hug. I squeezed her tightly, the smell of her hair bringing back happy memories.

We broke apart and she gave me a little salute. “See you around.”

“Safe sailing.”

When she turned her back on me, I turned too. I hated watching her leave.

The tavern door squeaked on its hinges and I heard her call out.

“And you’re _sure_ you included how devastatingly attractive I am?”


End file.
